Oblique
by mybrokenvow
Summary: With one last glance down at her, he closed the gap between them and tangled his finger on her hair, pulling her towards him. "Granger." And just like that, the night broke.
1. Prologue

Prologue

_She was standing feverishly straight, breathing softly as the dark shadow approached her. The wind was blowing violently, trees dancing in the night – shaking with agitated speed, threatening her, imploring her to leave the desolated area before they tumbled down upon her. She should have known it was nature's silent warning of what was to come. Part of her wanted to run, her brain shouted at her to run, but she remained rooted to the ground, waiting as the tall shadow approached her, inching closer and closer to his prey. The rain felt like bullets on her fair features with each drop piercing her as she raised her head up, ready for his coming. _

_The dark shadow drew near her and didn't stop until he stood directly before her, gazing down into her eyes, never breaking contact. Tilting his head to one side he gave her a pointed look before raising a hand and placing it mere centimeters away from her neck. His gaze softened then and followed his hand as it moved up her cheek, never touching her skin. No, they both knew the disaster that such action would cause. Another thunderbolt hit the ground and his eyes quickly moved to meet hers again. His silver orbs shone like twin moons, pleading forgiveness to a brutal sun. She could make out the dark mark on his pale arm as he raised his hand to her hair and closed his eyes in blissful agony. Time was closing in between them and they both knew it._

_With one last glance down at her, he closed the gap between them and intertwined his hand on her hair, pulling her towards him as his lips met her forehead._

"_Granger"_

_And just like that, the night broke._

_The sky cracked with dark magic and immediately she knew that they had been found. She moved to turn around and witness their coming, but his strong arms spun her around and pushed her back behind him. The rain was coming down harder and she could barely make out the meadow around her, let alone the man standing before her. Giving her one last glance, he moved his lips in a silent whisper as the magic played around her and concealed her location from anyone else but him. _

_Seconds later a bright green light hit him with titan-like strength and before she could do anything the wizard before her tumbled to the ground. _

_The world stopped for Hermione._

"_DRACO!"_

* * *

Thunder lit up the sky as Hermione Granger's eyes shot open, tears falling gently down her face.

One hundred miles away, on the outskirts of Wiltshire, a very confused and dazed Slytherin stirred awake.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy was not happy, not happy at all. Not only was the storm never ending and very much impeding his return to a happy slumber, but those forsaken dreams kept hitting him with much an ample force as the actual curse that hit his chest every time he closed his eyes and dreamed of spiraling rooms and Death Eater filled meadows.

Damn nightmares.

And the fact that the same bushy haired bitch frequented every single one of those nightmares was enough to push him off the edge of insanity.

Oh yes, he could try denying it for eternities to come, but he perfectly well knew who those sodding brown eyes belonged too. In every single one of those dreams, she gave him the same old look - that pleading gaze that made him think he'd committed atrocities greater than what had transpire during Voldemort's rise to power.

Hermione fucking Granger.

Witch extraordinaire, best friends with the boy-who-wouldn't-die and if rumors were true, soon-to-be bride of said boy's read headed pet side kick.

Damn Granger.

He sat up in bed and allowed the covers to fall and expose his pale chest as he ran a tired hand though his messy platinum hair. Checking the clock by his bedside table he noted the time and groaned: 1:30am.

He turned his head towards the window just in time to catch another lighting strike break the sky. Thunderstorms upon thunderstorms were all he remembered of England after his departure. And it seemed nature hadn't forgotten him either, since it welcomed him back with a violent tempest. Throwing his head back on his bed's headboard, he starred angrily at the dancing shadows on his ceiling. No, he most certainly wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

Damn these nightmares, damn Granger and damn this storm.

With one final glare outside his window he sighed, closed his eyes and thought back to when this whole ordeal had commenced.

He'd like to think his life had truly begun with his departure from England, but he knew very well he was fooling himself. This was the beginning of the end, as Blaise had so eloquently put it seven years ago, and the Italian wizard couldn't have been more right.

As soon as the gavel had struck the judge's desk and all charges had been cleared for the Malfoy family, save for his dear father of course, Draco had picked up his bags and left. No one but a selected few knew his destination and even then that only lasted for the first two months. His mother had pleaded with him to come back, but just three months into his parting, Draco Malfoy disappeared.

It had been his best and brightest idea ever, in his opinion.

He had left with one purpose and one purpose only: to escape the aftermath of the war and the demons that came with it. Little did he know that he'd only be able to accomplish the former before he soon realized his demons would never leave him. It was on a cold winters morning in the outskirts of Oslo, sitting inside some third rate coffee house when he came to the realization that his whole upbringing had been a lie.

One big, fucking, lie.

So Draco had picked up his life once more and had done what he did best. He closed himself up of all emotion and vanished; hoping to forget, and to be forgotten.

But nothing ever happens the way things are supposed to and four years after his desertion they were still writing columns about him.

"**The Malfoy Heir spotted off the coast of Croatia!"**

**Reporting Rita Skeeter, Young Draco Malfoy has been spotted walking leisurely with a pretty young red head in South Dalmatia, according to eye witnesses…**

"**Draco Malfoy: Dead"**

**Reporting Rita Skeeter, After what seems like daily sightings of the handsome young heir, it is to the Wizarding World's great sorrow to announce that Mr. Draco Malfoy, the last in line of the Malfoy family, has been found dead just days after being spotted enjoying a summer's vacation in Monte Carlo with famous Russian model, Ana Alistratov…**

"**Draco Malfoy: Alive!"**

**Reporting Rita Skeeter, Witches throughout the world rejoice! Draco Malfoy, winner of the Sexiest Wizard Alive for the past 4 years has been spotted very much alive, wearing a blue Chelsea jersey and apparently has given up his wizard upbringing to join the Muggle world and their barbaric sport knows as Footfall! Not to worry Mr. Malfoy, wizard or not you still will remain England's Most Handsome Wizard of the century…**

What their constant obsession with him was, he'd never know. He hadn't been seen in over four years and they still kept printing the same bullshit year after year, reusing and editing past gala photos of him in every single one of their articles.

Damn Rita Skeeter for keeping his memory alive.

He'd scoff at all the headlines. At least they still thought he was living his life without a worry in the world, touring the globe with the same beautiful gold diggers and acting very much like the Slytherin prince they had all been made to believe that he was.

Well, at least that suited his plan. After all, with believes like that, no one would have expected him to move south and take residence in a small nameless town south of Sevilla. And was exactly what he had done.

Four months into his departure he had moved to Spain and settled very well, much to his surprise. Those Spanish lessons his mother had made him take when he was 10 had definitely paid off. He resided in a small wizarding town, perfectly safe from all the gossip of the northern countries and their troubles. The English war for them was naught more than just a passing storm in their eyes; and Voldemort was nothing but a story now turned myth.

He was happy, to say the least, and the fact that no one recognized the Malfoy name or the famous pale skin and platinum blond hair was an added bonus. For once in his short life, he was grateful to be a 'nobody.'

It was on an eerie summer's night when it first happened. The first time he ever dreamed of _her_.

Exactly two years and five months ago to be precise.

It had been five years since he had left England and his life was moving on fine. Four years prior he had acquired a respectable job at an up and coming wizarding consulting firm and he was about to embark on his first assignment as Head Researcher for what was now the most esteemed consulting firm in all of Europe, with him being one of their most valuable consultant. It was the night before his departure to Singapore when he was jerked awake by a vivid dream that almost felt like a very distant memory. The wind had been blowing hard that night and he could hear the waves violently hit the precipice outside his coastal home. He had shaken his head and discarded the dream without much consideration, directing his thoughts to more pressing matters such as the assignment he had just been given before drifting back to a dreamless slumber.

Thinking about it now, he should have paid more heed to its meaning and to what it was to forecast.

It was three days into his trip when he learned of the news. Walking in wizarding Singapore back to his hotel room after a long day of curse breaking, data analysis and research, he stumbled upon a kiosk that seemed to be doing pretty well for its relatively small size. At least if that was to be judged by how many people swarmed it. He paid no heed to the commotion surrounding it and walked by, eager to get back to his room. But before he had even turned the corner, he heard the name that had made his blood run cold.

"Malfoy!"

He had swirled around; panic marking his fair features for an instant before he masked them with a perfect scowl and searched the ocean of people for the person who had seen through his very well placed disguise charm. But all he had seen were heads buried deep in what seemed to be Singapore's version of the Prophet. He had cautiously bowed his six foot frame over the shoulder of the small wizard closest to him and had tried to get a closer look at what they were all reading, only to discover a picture of his father glaring back up at him.

Damn it.

Yelling out at the vendor he demanded a copy of the newsprint, paid for it and left without a glance back. Had he scanned the area better, he would have noticed two wide brown eyes staring at him from outside a coffee shop right across the street.

"**BREAKING NEWS: INFAMOUS DEATH EATER LUCIUS MALFOY FOUND DEAD IN PRISON CELL"**

** NORTH SEA (WP) – Lucius Malfoy's remains were found in the early hours this morning inside his Azkaban prison cell. Suicide has been ruled out and no report has been made as to how the murder came about. Interrogations are being administered on all prison staff to determine a probable cause to this mysterious murder. Due to the graphic contents of this story, no detailed information is available to the general public at this moment. More information will be provided as it breaks.**

**For more information about the Malfoy family turn to page 5.**

He hadn't slept that night.

It's not like he ever loved the man, Merlin forbid that had ever happened. But he couldn't deny that a small part of him crumbled as he read the story. His father had been murdered and the story had been deemed too graphic to be described. What could have possibly happened? He got his answer two painfully long days later.

Lucius Malfoy had apparently been spared a clean and speedy death and instead he had been murdered very slowly and very painfully. The inside of the cell had resembled the dark secrets of a slaughter house with his intestines and lungs found hanging off the bed posts and his fingers, toes, ears and eyes sprinkled across the floor. His decapitated head, which lay on his bed, was just the final touch to the blood soaked room.

Aurors had performed a thorough search of the cell and the entire prison for any clues that might lead to answers as to how the murder was committed, and how the killer even gained access of one of the most guarded cells in Azkaban. But after two weeks of long hours and meaningless sweeps, nothing was found. Whoever had committed the crime knew perfectly well what they were doing and knew how to skive the Ministry's search. No justice was brought to Lucius' murder and a month later the case went cold.

That is until one by one, captured Death Eaters fell to their death inside their own prison cells, each killed in an equally grotesque fashion as his late father. Whoever the murderer was, played a spiteful game and drove the Ministry to it limits. He'd like to think the uproar that was brought on by Ministry members was mostly due to a bruised ego instead of justice for the fallen men. But then again, said fallen men were murderers themselves and supporters of Voldemort, they deserved no mercy in their eyes. So instead of focusing on protecting the lives of the few that remained, the Ministry had gone upon isolating Azkaban and building a newer more improved prison. Well at least now he knew where the yearly donations his family was forced to make went to.

It wasn't until Theodore Nott's mutilated body appeared on the doorsteps of precious Harry Potter that the ministry began to take notice of where these murders were heading.

That was around the time he got his first owl form his mother.

How the bloody bird found him, he had no idea.

She told him of the country's happenings and implored him to return. Apparently the Ministry thought the murderer was targeting all remaining families of the departed Death Eaters and were offering protection. He sneered at that. In his opinion, the Ministry was more inclined to offer them up to this killer than they were to offer protection. But before the Ministry could make good on their promises, the attacks ceased. After a year of waiting, Ministry officials closed the case and concluded that the mysterious wizard behind these murdered had tired and stopped. Just like that, with no what's, how's or why's. Closed case, no justice for anyone. Out of sight, out of mind. The last news that anyone ever got was a very ceremoniously printed list of the deceased on the next day's Prophet.

But of course not many people paid regard to these names, what did they cared for ex-Voldemort sympathizers and their families.

Not many people cared enough to read through every single one of those names, and fewer people still realized that all of them had in fact carried the Death Eater mark. This wasn't a list of family and friends. It was a hit list and every person in it had supported Voldemort, either publicly or secretly and had paid the ultimate price. Not many people counted the names and not many people realized that all Death Eaters had been whipped from the wizarding world. Not many people realized that only one ex-Death Eater was missing from the list. Not many people noticed anything at all.

That was the second time he dreamed about her and the first time he dreamed about his death.

* * *

Hermione Granger was having a rather hard time falling asleep. She had woken up from another nightmare shortly before 1:30am and the storm had prevented her from falling back on Morpheus arms. Two hours consisting of twist and turns had passed slowly and by the end of it, the result had been the same. A very awake, very tired and very angry Hermione Granger lay on her mattress, fuming as she stared at the dancing shadows on her bedroom walls.

The storm still raged on.

She hated storms, always had. Ever since she was a little child she would always creep up her parent's bed during a thunderstorm and snuggle between them as they soothed her childish fears with light kisses and gentle songs. Things had been much better as a five year old.

But now, as a woman of 24 years of age, she didn't much think she'd be allowed to apparate to her parent's house, let alone sneak onto their bed. Not after what she had made them go through in Australia.

Sigh. It was times like these when she wished she had taken up Ron's invitation of moving in with him. At least then she wouldn't have had to worry about not being able to get a good night's rest due to thunderstorms if he'd been with her.

But in all seriousness how long could a stupid storm last! She huffed once more as she looked at the clock on her bedside table and threw the covers off of her as she jumped off the bed and stomped towards the bathroom.

Today was not supposed to start so early.

As Hermione started the shower and peeled off her bed clothes off her small frame, she thought back to 1:30am and to what had actually woken her up. She'd like to have blamed it all on the bloody storm, on the damn tree outside her London flat with its skinny twigs hitting her bedroom window and playing out an eerie scene with their shadows on her bedroom wall. She'd like to blame it on the late night cup of coffee she drank before bed and on the deliciously crafted finger food she'd had eaten at Harry and Ginny's pre-engagement party the night before. Hell, she would even go as far as to blame it on work and the damn impossible case they had on their hands.

But it would all have been a lie, a completely ludicrous and possibly believable lie to anyone but her.

She stepped into the scalding shower and let the water run down her frame, making her skin burn as the droplets rolled down every part of her body and allowed her muscles to relax. Reaching over to her shampoo and beginning the delightfully soothing process of massaging her scalp, she thought back to the real reason she had been awake at such a ghastly hour.

Draco Sodding Malfoy.

Not even in her sleep could she escape the bloody ferret. He had been creeping into her dreams little by little for the past two years and she was quite frankly growing tired of it. She had tried all sorts of medicaments to rip him off of her subconscious, but even the Dreamless Draught potion she prepared the first of each month was not enough to kick him out completely.

At first he had only appeared discreetly every once in a while and lingered in her dreams for barely a second before disappearing, he had just been an extra in the movie rail her brain had created. She had paid it no heed; it was probably her brain still trying to make sense of his disappearance. He had been gone for five years and she couldn't escape the constant chatter that always surrounded his name. She stopped frequenting the dining area at the Ministry and had opted for a lonely but very much peaceful lunch in her office, away from gossiping witches. But not even that spared her from hearing his name everywhere she went. It was like all of Britain had a frantic obsession with him. Everywhere she went, she either heard his name, or saw it on print. Malfoy this, Malfoy that… Honestly, were people's lives so miserable that they had to focus on the life of man who hadn't been seen or heard of in over five years? If it had been anyone else, the gossip wouldn't have even lasted pass the end of the week. But no, this was Draco Malfoy, and his memory was kept alive in their daily lives only because of his parentage, his supposed fortune and his disgustingly good looks.

And so the dreams had come every now and then and with a mental swipe of her hand, they had been casted away. She hadn't told anyone about it because one, it's not like they were disrupting her day to day life... yet, and two, people would have just blankly stared at her and probably declared her a lost case and grouped her off with all the pathetic witches who slept and ate his name. Honestly these witches had no self-respect.

No he hadn't done much damage to her mental state and soon after she had just learned to cast him off and ignore any dream she had. She had smiled back then and silently declared herself a winner – Sorry Malfoy, you lose, again.

It had all been well and perfectly normal until her trip to Singapore a few months later. She had been away on assignment with Terry Boot and had currently been sitting outside a rather pleasant coffee shop discussing the breaking news of Lucius Malfoy's murder when an increasing number of people had caught her eye and she had gazed up across the street to a fast filling kiosk. Merlin, even in Singapore people where obsessed with the Malfoy name. Shortly after, a wizard very blatantly yelled out the famous surname and excited whispering had followed it. She shook her head and was about to drop her gaze back at the paper in front of her when a tall wizard standing just to the side of the crowd had caught her eye. It was as if her body realized what she was seeing before her mind actually processed it as her whole frame went numb. There standing right across the street from her, in a very open, very crowed street was Draco Malfoy himself. Merlin, she would never have recognized him had it not been for her intensive training as an Undercover in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He had changed every part of himself, his skin was a golden tan and his features were more Arab than English. He was a completely different person and Hermione would have seconded guessed her discovery had it not been for the sneer he wore for mere seconds before masking his face with a bored expression. There and then she thanked him for intruding her dreams and keeping his trademark smirk alive in her memory. She watched as he peered over the shoulders of the man in front of him and narrowed her eyes as recognition marred his features. To anyone else his reaction would have been completely natural, after all, the bloody world had a love affair with the Malfoy name and Hermione would have paid it no attention had she not caught his slip moments before and recognized him. She watched him with wide eyes as he demanded a newsprint, paid for it and left the scene.

Arriving back at her hotel room that night, she replayed the scene over and over again in her head. There were moments where she'd try to make herself believe that the Malfoy fever was finally catching up with her and that the person she had seen two hours ago was not Draco Malfoy, but just a nice man walking back home from a hard day at work and getting the evening news. But then the smirk flickered in her memory again.

That was the first night he switched his roles from an extra to the main character in her dreams.

Damn you, Malfoy.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot. **

A/N: Sorry for any grammatical errors. Please read and review!


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot. **

A/N: Long chapter but should tie up some loose ends. R&R!

* * *

Chapter 2

"So, the infamous Draco Malfoy has returned."

Blaise Zabini grinned widely as he crossed the shadow filled room's entire length, heading towards the only source of light emitting from a peculiar orb hovering over Draco Malfoy's Carpathian elm and ebony desk.

"Are you going for a melancholic look with that floating ball? Because, its doing wonders to this room," said the Italian, as he curiously glanced at the dancing shadows on the walls before sitting himself on a rather comfortable looking dragon's hide armchair across from the Malfoy heir's desk. "It's a wonder you can actually read the print on those hefty reports of yours. Careful though, you don't want to go blind there. I don't quite cherish the thought of acting as your guide for centuries to come."

Draco looked up then and smirked at his tan friend before leaning back on his leather chair and waving a finger towards the flying orb, making it dim the room even more.

"Are you done, Zabini?"

"Not even close, but I can resume later, I suppose."

Draco shook his head and stretched his arms above his head before staring back and Blaise and sneering, "I told mother not to have anyone disturb me. How did you get in?"

Faking dire displeasure, Blaise glared at his friend and with a wave of his hand had the orb hovering above his lap. "Oh I have my ways, though I think you and I both know that I'm not just 'anyone.' Come on mate, we've been friends since infancy, this is how you greet me after seven long years?"

"Seven years has not been long enough," said the blonde, before twisting angrily back towards his desk to resume his work.

The orb hovered back to its earlier spot by Draco's desk and returned to its original luminosity. The dark shadows on the room played out a passionate scene, mimicking its owner's internal demons with its Shakespearean tragedy and madness.

Blaise didn't miss the flash of loss pass through his friend's eyes as he watched Draco lift his head and glance at the orb. Bringing it towards him with his stare the blonde flickered his hand at the orb and observed the sphere split into tens before returning each individual light that had formed it to its original place around the lamps adorning the majestic room. The Italian frowned and dropped his playful demeanor.

"I can only imagine why you're back, Draco. A lot has happened while you were away. There have been major accomplishments performed in Britain, and major setbacks as well. The Ministry might try to hide all the horror that is still plaguing the country after Voldemort's demise, but people are catching up and demanding answers. It won't be long before a revolt starts up and challenges the unjust system of the courts."

To that Draco narrowed his eyes at the tall man, not missing the hidden meaning behind his previous word, and watched as his friend for 24 years stood up.

'Trust no one' was what his father had once told him.

"Why are you here, Blaise?"

The room no longer shone with melancholic presence, instead the lights burned bright with that question.

Merlin, it was like the world couldn't give him a second's rest. He could already feel the knots forming on his back, or intensifying more like it since they had actually formed the moment he had set foot on English soil. The morning had started at 1:30am with Granger's bloody stare and it hadn't gotten better since then. The storm had been unforgiving, and casting a repellent charm on his body he'd gone out to exercise his restlessness. He thought the 10 mile run would have helped him completely clear his thoughts as it mostly did, but it only lessened the pounding on his head which quickly resurface as he spied his mother waiting for him at the entrance of the Malfoy estate. She took him to her private study and sat him down, giving him a very well-rehearsed reprimand on how he had failed to uphold the family name after the war and then again after his father's death. Merlin, he knew he deserved it. He had abandoned his remaining family and had fled like the coward he had been played out to be during his Hogwarts years. He knew she had every right to ring him down for everything he had done and had failed to do; he had been expecting it since he had made his decision to return and he had tried to mentally prepared himself for it, but he never expected it to have come so soon. Trust Narcissa Malfoy to corner him at his most vulnerable moment and bury him in guilt. She might have been his mother but she was a Slytherin to the core.

He had resisted the urge of packing up then and leaving the damned country for good, screw his father and damn his future as the Malfoy heir, but his mother's lecture had rung in his ears and his pride and vanity ended up getting the best of him. He couldn't leave, at least not yet. He had paced his room like a caged animal, thoughts streaming through his head of how to best approach this delicate situation he was in. The sweat from his morning run had long ago dried up on his frame and upon getting his thoughts in order - Draco straightened up, instructed the house elves to clean up his father's study, and indulged in a long and much-needed bath. He would leave this country again, that he was certain, but he would do it the right way this time, the way he should have done it seven years ago.

He had calmed himself and had actually enjoyed his plotting during his bath, but as soon as he closed his eyes to appreciate the warmth creep back to his bones, a flicker of brown passed through his vision and his mood soured again. He needed to look into dreamless potions that actually worked and rid himself of her completely. Maybe a visit to Borgin and Burkes would solve his problems.

She had restlessly lingered in the back of his mind that morning and throughout the hours he had spent perusing the Malfoy yearly reports and financial statements his lawyers and advisors had sent him upon his request that morning. His mother had done an impeccable job at keeping the Malfoy Empire running strong, even with the ups and downs the family had gone through. It still remained one of the most influential companies in the UK and had a growing population worldwide. How Narcissa Malfoy managed with the running of the company was beyond him. He knew his mother to be cunning when she wanted to, but he never expected her to have a calling for running a multibillion galleon company. He thought his father's advisor were taking care of the business until his return, how she had broken the men most loyal to Lucius was beyond him. They were, after all, not supposed to divulge any information to anyone except to Lucius and Draco himself; that was a lesson his father had made sure they learned. Had Lucius thought we would have been able to outlive his own son he would have very well made himself sole keeper of all the Malfoy Empire. Trust no one. Not even your own flesh and blood.

Draco waited for a response as the Italian paced the room again and casually leered behind the drawn curtains before closing them promptly and turning to stare back at the blonde.

"I'm here as a friend, Draco. I know what's going through your mind, I've known you long enough to understand your thought process and I'm here to tell you that I'm not the one you should be focusing your efforts on. Whatever plan it is you're plotting, Draco, you can rest assure that I won't interfere in it. However I do warn you to stay cautious. The Ministry is very interested in you and what you have been up to these past seven years. When they learned of your arrival yesterday night, it wasn't just the press that had a field day. They have been trying to locate you since the murders and now that you're back they want answers.

"I knew you wouldn't take the news lightly and had it been someone else who had brought you this invitation, you would have very much burned it upon it landing on your desk, but I strongly recommend you play along with them and accept what they will offer you." With that Blaise pulled out an envelope from his robes and deposited it on Draco's desk before walking towards the fireplace and stepping in it.

"I'll see you on Saturday, Draco." And in green flames, the wizard disappeared.

He rolled his eyes at Blaise's dramatic leave and reached for the envelope that had been left on his desk. It was square in shape and pasty in color with the Ministry seal on the back. He turned it over and stared at his own name printed on the front.

**Draco Lucius Malfoy**

With another roll of his eyes he slid his finger through the closed flap and tore open the cover.

The Ministry of Magic cordially invites you to the 7th annual **Black Robe Gala**

**Saturday 6****th****, 2008**

**7:00 PM**

**The Victoria Room**

**Ministry of Magic**

The Gala commemorates the souls lost in the war and all donations benefit the

**Children of Sorrow Foundation**

Please send your acceptance by return of owl to:

Black Robe Gala

Ministry of Magic

Department of International Magical Cooperation

Draco snorted

A Gala? A bloody gala was their brilliant plan to lure him to them?

He placed the envelope down and made his way to his father's precious liquor collection.

Well, Blaise had been right; had anyone else delivered the invitation, he would have very much burned it without a care to its contents.

He poured himself a drink and sat on his father's favorite green leather three cushion couch. Sipping the beverage he looked around the study and noted how even though his father was long dead, his spirit seemed to linger in the room. Mother had kept it the same and he was sure he was the first person to step on its Persian rug since Lucius. Had his plans been of setting up permanent residence in England he would have had the entire office redecorated in the blink of an eye.

Scanning the room, his eyes landed back on the envelope and his brows furrowed in annoyance.

What could the Ministry possibly want from him? Yes, he was the last Death Eater alive, but he had no plans of going back that route and the Ministry was very well aware of that before he left. But that had been seven years ago.

_It won't be long before a revolt starts up and challenges the unjust system of the courts._

Blaise's warning resonated in his ears as he sipped on his Firewisky. Could they possibly think he'd want revenge on the Ministry for stopping the investigation of all the murders? There was the possibility that Ministry was covering some information up after all, if not, then why had they not pursued the issue further after the murders had ceased? Most of the affected families had been hit hard with the aftermath of the war and their fortunes along with the power their name had once held had evaporated, so they couldn't do much about the whole murder cover up; but the Malfoy name still held influence and dominance. He didn't much care for avenging his father. The bastard deserved to die, maybe not in such a gruesome way, but the man didn't deserve life. But the ministry didn't know this. All the Ministry was aware of was their own problems with keeping secrets hidden and the sudden reappearance of a famous ex Death Eater, Draco Malfoy; the son of the first victim in the Death Eater Massacre.

Anyone could put two and two together, really.

The affected families might not have had the funds and power to take the case against the Ministry, but he did. He smirked as the thought found root on his mind. The revolt the Ministry was afraid of wasn't any petty uprising, but a new brand of Death Eaters led by him, reunited not to fight for a madman, but to avenge their blood and name. Merlin, it would have been brilliant; absolutely sadistic in every aspect of the word.

Too bad Draco wanted no part in it.

But the Ministry didn't need to know that.

Grinning, he stood up and headed towards his desk, a plan forming in his mind. Taking out a quill and some parchment he wrote his reply before sealing it with the Malfoy crest and sending his Eagle owl on its way towards the Ministry of Magic.

He might have to delay his return to Spain for a couple more months, but if it was to see the Ministry fall, it would be well worth it in the end.

* * *

"Hermione! Merlin Hermione how could you be so calm at a time like this! I'm literally about to explode with excitement, do you think he was a witch already? I mean Witch Weekly said he was single and he's only been in the country for almost a whole day! There is a possibility, but… no, of course he doesn't! Men like him don't have serious commitments; which suits me fine, I can be the one to change that." Sighing happily Lavender continued perusing the Daily Prophet as they waited for the beginning of the Aurors meeting.

How Lavender Brown became an Auror, Hermione had no idea.

"Lavender, I could really care less about that wizard, and you should do the same. He's only going to use you and throw you back out. Surely you have more self-respect than that."

"Oh, Hermione, you and your prudish ways. I'm telling you, he'll never tire of me. I saw it all you see, our future, back when we were at Hogwarts and I was helping Professor Trelawney clean her crystal balls. Draco Malfoy and I are _destined_ to be together!"

Hermione just rolled her eyes at the blonde witch and wondered what in the world was taking Harry and Ginny so long to arrive. She'd rather hear about Quidditch than bloody Malfoy any day.

She had learned he had returned that morning as she read the a.m. news in the comforts of her London flat. It had been front page news then, and 5 hours later it was still the biggest news that hit the Prophet since his disappearance. Not only was there a full spread of him on the Prophet but now the midday release included a separate newsprint dedicated exclusively to the Malfoy heir, which had already sold out all over London.

Was she the only one immune to his ways? She had even seen Ginny curiously looking over his spread during lunch that day, and she was engaged!

"_Just because I'm committed and in a serious relationship doesn't mean my eyes can't wander and appreciate a good-looking bloke when one sees one, Hermione"_ had been her defense. _"I'm sure Harry does the same anyways, but we trust each other."_

"_Harry looks at other blokes?"_

"_Shut up, Granger, you know what I meant."_

She smiled at the memory just as Ginny herself and the boy who lived walked briskly towards her and sat on their corresponding seats around the large oval mahogany desk, faces bright red and lips slightly swollen.

"Phew, made it on time!" Harry grinned at her before sending Ginny a wink and receiving an eye roll from his fiancé.

"Honestly, Harry, you're my best friend, but please keep some things to yourself," Hermione rolled, crunching up her nose in disgust.

"Hermione, you need to loosen up, honestly. All you need is a good shag and you'll be on boat with all of us," said Lavender, casually, as she turned the page in her Malfoy spread.

"Speaking of shags or lack thereof, Ron told me you guys were celebrating your three years today," smiled Ginny, "should have been seven but we'll pretend those four years were just a momentarily indiscretion on your part."

"Thanks, Ginny," replied the brunette, rolling her eyes and organizing her quill and parchment for the meeting. Just then Head Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt entered and all jokes where left behind as a serious tension filled the room.

"Thank you for joining us once again," the dark wizard nodded at all the members, before sitting himself at the front of the table and pulling out reports of the weekly occurrences.

"I won't waste time briefing all of you on the purpose of this meeting, all of you received the same owl and should already be aware of what we are facing."

A few seconds of silence was all he needed to continue.

"The latest reports on the murders have been released and as of 5am this morning, the toll of victims is at 24 with 20 being in Europe and 4 abroad. All murders were performed the same way as in the Death Eater Massacre, with a few minimal variances. The German Ministry is collaborating with us and has offered some of their Aurors and Undercovers to this case."

He looked around the conference room at the gathering of his best Aurors, taking in each of their expressions and allowing them a few seconds to absorb the news.

"That settles it then, the killer is back." Drawled the eldest Auror of the group, Benjamin Kent.

Shacklebolt let out a loud sigh before shaking his head and standing to face all the occupants of the room. "So it would seem, except none of the victims had any alliance with past Death Eaters or Voldemort himself. Only 5 victims have been English and none of them were permanent residents in England. The only link these murders have to the Death Eater Massacre are in the way they were murdered. We could be dealing with the actual killer or a copy."

Dread fell upon the room like a black blanket covering a grave. The only sound came from Hermione's quill scratching parchment and a varied tapping on the desk by Ginny Weasley. The former was scribbling madly at the parchment while the latter watched her with interest before resuming her tapping and gazing at her fiancé who any second now would have something to say.

"The Ministry should never have let it gotten this far," huffed Harry, "Now innocent people are dying and we don't even know who killer this is. Ignoring the murders two years ago did nothing but assure future killers that the British Ministry won't condemn any sins, how can we call ourselves Aurors when we don't even follow the law. We all know prophesies are not always accurate."

Ginny Weasley smirked. She knew Harry too well.

"Harry, we did what we thought best at the time, you know the circumstances we faced and we won't dwell on the past anymore. We must concentrate on what is the now and make sure this killing spree ends once and for all." Kingsley Shacklebolt stood firmly as he delivered his speech and looked once more across the room before he continued. "Whether this killer is the author of the Death Eater Massacres or a new one playing at the name of the last, we are involved in this and we will go to the lengths of the Wizarding World to see this come to an end.

"Auror Kent , Auror Weasley and Auror Brown will travel to Germany and meet with the German Aurors to further investigate the situation since the most murders have occurred there and Ginny is familiar with the country; you three leave tomorrow at sunbreak. Auror Potter, you'll stay and investigate the murders north of Wales along with Auror Mallory and Undercover Boot. Undercover Granger I need you to research the properties of the _Deletus_ potion which seems to be present at most of the scenes before traveling to Spain with Auror Zabini. You will meet Ministry officials there and inquire more about the murders that took place in Madrid a fortnight ago. You will all be briefed before your respective departures. We will get to the bottom of this, we have all of Europe's support. This time, we won't make the same mistake again."

With a wave of his hand he dismissed them.

One by one he watched as all this employees gathered their belonging and slowly walked out of the room, emptying it until only Blaise Zabini remained. The door shut slowly.

"Has it been delivered?"

"It has and I believe he will be of attendance," the Italian drawled, standing up and leaning again the one way window across from his Godfather as he crossed his arms. "I still think we are making a big mistake in assuming his involvement, however. I just hope this is the final proof you need before you drop him off the case."

"Be that as it may, Blaise, we can't afford any loopholes. Everyone must be accounted for. If he's not involved then his knowledge may be of use to us. Spain didn't recommend him if he wasn't good at his job."

"Does Hermione know that she might be working with him yet?"

"Not yet, I want to make sure we have him on board before the real excitement begins. I know of their past but surely after seven years they can put their differences behind them and collaborate on a mutual cause.

"This is the biggest case the Ministry has ever taken upon; we need the best Aurors the law has ever seen. With her knowledge and his skill plus all the Aurors assigned to this case including yourself, we'll make it right and trap the killer."

Shacklebolt took back his seat and rested his head on his hands.

"So you believe it's the same one as before then, the original murderer who ended the reign of the Death Eaters?" Said Blaise as he stepped away from the window and approached his boss.

"I believe that yes, which is why we need Mr. Malfoy on our side, if he were to initiate any uprising, Hermione will be able to communicate that to us, and if he has indeed returned with no vengeful purpose, then he remains the last of the Death Eaters to walk. Whether we like it or not the killer will come after him once they deem the time appropriate, it's better we have him watched than to uncover another grizzly death. He may be the last chance we have to a link to the murderer."

"So use him as bait? Really Kignsley, that's low even for Ministry standards."

"Watch your tongue Blaise, if it wasn't for the fact that I've known you from birth, you'd be put on leave this instance. You must be careful of how you direct your questions, the Ministry is already paranoid as it is, and there is no need for them to start breaking down from within. Unity right now is what we need, else the killer will win and it won't be just Mr. Malfoy who suffers the consequences."

* * *

_**The Deletus Draught**_**, known for its ability to erase evidence from a scene, is a Dark Arts potion, more advanced than its cousin **_**The Eve Draught**_** which merely conceals the information. Unlike normal potions, this specific draught is not swallowed by the user but rather poured over all the evidence that is to be erased. 20% of the potion will remain in the atmosphere after use for approximately two hours. Due to the purpose of this draught, it was made illegal in 1901. **

**Only three witches and two wizards have been known to produce the potion with full results and no information is currently available for a counter draught. Failed attempts have resulted in eroded furniture and even death. It is believed a part of the maker's being must be incorporated within the potion in order for it to work. The last known wizard to have been successful at brewing it, was famed Alchemist Alabaster Hormick in 1854...**

Hermione sighed, she had spent most of her afternoon researching the potion in the Ministry's library and the results had been the same. Minimal information about the draught in every book she had so far found. One thing was certain though: whoever this killer was, they were indeed gifted in the arts of dark potion making. Snape would have been proud. But if the Ministry wanted any chance of getting their hands on any solid evidence and catching this murderer she needed to find the counter draught, and find it fast.

She closed the book she had been reading and glanced at the clock hanging off the wall at the entrance of the library; 6:30pm. Groaning, she accioed her books back to their original places and collected her belongings before calling it a night and returning to her flat. Ron would be picking her up at 8:00pm and she wanted to get ready with spare time to do some more research at home.

Thinking about Ron just made her head hung with guilt. He was completely and unconditionally enamored with her and try as she might to deny it, she knew her feelings towards the red-head were not at the same level as his. She kept thinking that perhaps with time her love for him would grow to the level where it should be, but after four years of his pursuing and three years of dating, she wasn't so sure anymore.

They had shared that one passionate hormonal fueled kiss during the war and had expressed their love for each other then, but her trip to Australia to recover her parents had placed a halt on any romantic relations they both could have hope for. She kept telling him and herself that she needed time to recover from her parent's wrath and complete abandonment. Try as she might to explain the reason behind her actions, they had shut the doors on her, unable to forgive her all she had done. Ron had respected her space and told her that he would wait for her until she felt she was ready to move on. But months had turned to years and after the fourth's anniversary of her parent's loss, Ron lost it himself. The argument had been brutal that night and eventually Hermione had relented; more out of fear of losing the friendship she held with him than from happiness of gaining a lover. She gave herself to him that night and it had been there, lying in his arms and feeling his breath whisper love sonnets against her ears, where she realized that she may never be able to love him the way he deserved.

She hadn't slept with him since that night, calling herself a traditionalist and using the excuse that she wanted to keep the last connection she had with her parents alive - her upbringing. He had begrudgingly accepted and she had released a sigh of relief. She knew she was slowly hurting him more and more with each day she let pass in their pretend love, but she couldn't bear bring him pain, he just looked _so_ happy. So she kept telling herself the same lie over and over again: in time she'll love him, in time she'll change.

Snapping out of her reverie she apparated home and began the long process of readying herself before Ron arrived. He had wanted to take her to a newly opened Italian restaurant named _Cusina_ on the posh side of Diagon Alley to celebrate this "milestone" and had even gone through the trouble of buying her a dress.

Hermione stared at the light blue outfit lying on her bed as she felt another pang of guilt hit her heart. The dress was absolutely breathtaking; it had al low V-cut on the front and sported a bare back with diamonds glittering around the waist and neck. To anyone else it would have been a dream to walk into _Cusina _dressed in _Bianchi_ and in the arms of Ronald Weasley; famous Keeper of the Chudley Cannons and fourth most attractive wizard in the past five years. But to Hermione, it was anything but. Once again, she would be wearing a stunning dress that showed too much and a smile that had to be painted to be deemed believable.

She sat on her bed still wrapped in her bathroom towel and brought her face to her hands. Merlin, she couldn't do this to him anymore. She couldn't keep lying to him and making him believe she loved him as much as he loved her. He didn't deserve this. She needed to stop this farce soon.

Gryffindor courage where are you when one needs you the most?

She sighed and stood back up; unwrapping the towel that held her hair and letting the damp tresses fall to her bare shoulders.

One more night, then she'd lose one of the greatest people who ever set foot in her life.

Stepping towards the mirror and charming her hair to magically do itself, she began working on her appearance.

* * *

With a distant pop and a close of her eyes, Hermione pasted a bright smile on her face as she traveled from her bedroom to her living room to greet her boyfriend of three years. He had his back turned to her when she arrived and she was able to notice his shoulders tense in excitement as he waited her entrance, fiddling with something on his hands. She coughed lightly and saw him jump somewhat as he turned around to greet her, hands hidden behind his back and a brilliant smile lighting up his whole face. Merlin, he was beautiful. She allowed herself a genuine smile as she watched him approach her, missing the small box he placed on his coat pocket.

"Hermione, you look stunning," the red-head smiled and bend his head over to give her a longing kiss which she allowed.

"You look very handsome as well, Ron." She didn't lie this time; she knew she was lucky to be with a wizard such as him. He was kind, generous, and breathtakingly beautiful. He had never done anything to hurt her and now in a few hours she was to break his heart.

Stepping away from him to pick up her handbag she motioned for him to join her as she made her way to the fireplace, "Come on Ron, we don't want to be late."

He furrowed his brows at that and an anxious gaze passed through his eyes. "Actually, Hermione, I was wondering if we could delay dinner for a few minutes. I've already owled them to let them know we'll be arriving later than expected."

Hermione placed her handbag back on the small coffee table in front of the fireplace before gazing at him questioningly.

"Is everything ok, Ron?"

He let out a long breath and gave her the most loving look she had ever seen cross his features. Her heart began pumping faster as all types of thoughts crossed her mind.

"Everything is absolutely perfect, Hermione," he began, reaching over to her and taking her hand in his before he continued. "These past three years spend alongside you have been magnificent and I've cherished every second we have lived together." He smiled warmly at her and looked down and her hand in his before taking one more step towards her and looking back up at his beautiful witch.

Hermione swallowed hard. She could feel her temperature drop with every second that passed them by. Silent chills began attacking her skin as her heart beat faster and faster. _Merlin, let this not be happening. _

"I know it took us longer to reunite in our love, but we prevailed over all the hardships we faced. Your parents disowning you, Fred's death, they all brought us closer together these past years, Hermione. Night after night I thank whoever is out there for bringing you into my life and I pray you'll stay in there forever."

_Please no, please, please, please, please_

"You're the only witch I've ever loved, Hermione." Holding her gaze in his, he reached over to his coat pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small black box.

_No_

Giving her one last smile he knelt down before her and produced a golden diamond encrusted ring.

"Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in matrimony, Hermione Jean Granger?"

* * *

N/A: Random note - as I was writing Ron's proposal, all I could think of was Mr. Bingley's pathetic yet sweet proposal to Jane in the 2005 movie adaptation of Jane Austin's _Pride and Prejudice_.

Ahh, Mr. Darcy

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I know it's still early, but would anyone like to try their chance at guessing who this killer might be?!

Sorry for any grammatical errors and thanks for reading!

~mybrokenvow


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot. **

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed! It really made me happy to see that you guys are enjoying the story! To my guest who wrote about Hermione's decision regarding the proposal, I hope you like the chapter! And to Jadepowell, thanks for your input on who the murderer might be! Hope you enjoy the chapter ;)

As always, thanks for reading :)

* * *

Previously:

_Giving her one last smile he knelt down before her and produced a golden diamond encrusted ring._

"_Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in matrimony, Hermione Jean Granger?"_

Chapter 3

_Wednesday, 7:55pm_

_Hermione Granger residence_

The small cuckoo clock, a present form Ginny when she had visited Germany's famed Black Forrest, hung beautifully on Hermione Jean Granger's living room, counting down the seconds till the time arrived to let its small _Vogel_ escape its eternal resting place for eight short-lived seconds.

For the redheaded man, kneeling on the floor in front of the beautiful brunette dressed in pale blue and adorned in diamonds, each seconds seemed to last an eternity.

Merlin, he had waited exactly 12 months and 5 hours for this precise moment. But each second that passed by was nothing if it meant he'd have her for the rest of his life.

His smile widened even more as he stared at the beautiful woman in front of him. He was so lucky to have her. He knew their relationship had taken its time to lift off, but by Jove, every instant that he had spent with her had been the sweetest moments in his 25 year-long life.

He recalled confiding in his mother and sister a year ago on his proposal to Hermione. They had very patiently advised him to wait a few more years; witches like Hermione were not like the groupies that hung out after his Quidditch matches, eager to land a husband. He had begrudgingly agreed, and waited one year exact. Quite frankly, he couldn't wait any more. Hermione loved him as much as he loved her, and she knew he would never stand in her way of reaching her goals. Sure he wanted to start a family as soon as possible, but he knew Hermione was a modern witch. She would want to wait more years. And that was perfectly fine with him. But just because she didn't want to add family members just yet, didn't mean she couldn't become his wife! Plus, two years of abstinence was pure torture for a 25-year-old male.

So when the time to mark their three years together approached, he decided to tell no one and surprise them all at the same time. He knew he'd have to make it special, and he knew he would have to patiently wait some more seconds after he presented her with the ring before officially calling her his fiancé.

Oh but these seconds that passed by as he kneeled before her were pure agony. He knew she'd take her time, which is why he had practiced the kneeling pose for a while. His Hermione was a rational witch. She would think everything through with her mind first before agreeing with her heart that he was the one and only one for her. And that was fine with him, because quite frankly, that's why he loved her. She was so different from him on so many levels, yet at the same time, they were the same. So with that in mind he had prepared for a week and now, on the eve of his three years with her, he waited patiently as she took her time to accept his hand.

His knee was beginning to hurt.

No matter, any second now.

He watched her even more intensely as the last seconds ticked by; he could feel her arriving to a decision and his smile widened even more. Three more seconds and a full minute of waiting would be reached, but finally she would be him and only his.

He took in a deep breath as his eyes traveled to her slowly opening mouth.

Fifty-eight, fifty-nine…

"Ron, I – I can't"

* * *

_Thursday, 8:25am_

_Malfoy Manor_

Draco Malfoy liked his coffee black. Completely black. Maybe a drop of water or a spoon of whiskey now and then, but for the most part he like it black.

Prior to his departure from England, he had hated the bitter substance. His first taste had been when he was 11 and had just returned from his first semester at Hogwarts. He had seen his father sip the ebony liquid at breakfast one morning and wanting to be just like him, you Draco had ordered the house elves to bring him whatever his father was having. Upon its arrival he had picked it up with the same elegance his father possessed and had brought the cup up to his lips; eager to act like a fully adult Malfoy male. However upon its entrance past his parted lips, the young Malfoy had gasped and made the liquid go down the wrong end, choking at the bitterness and hotness of the café before dropping the china and all its contents on the breakfast table, much to his father's amusement and his mother's displeasure.

Since that day, at the tender age of 11, Draco Malfoy had sworn off coffee.

If it hadn't been for a beautiful Spaniard witch and the intense heat that surrounded them that summer's morning as they rolled out of bed, Draco Malfoy would still to this day have called himself a coffee-hater.

But Camila had insisted on changing his ways about coffee and had made him try a very simple yet very flavorful _Café Con Hielo._

Merlin, that had been his undoing.

From that day on he had tasted all types of coffees he could get his hands on.

He had decided he liked _Café Solo_ best, but when he was feeling in a celebratory mood he would order _Café Carajillo_ or _Café Bombon_.

2,320 kilometer away though, sitting at the head of the table in the grand dining room of the Malfoy Manor and barely listened to his mother's suggestions on who he should take as a date to Saturday's gala, the Malfoy heir felt a pang of nostalgia hit his heart as he stared blankly at the black substance before him.

This 11-year-old self was back.

Slowly he moved the cup away from him as he reached for a juice glass and sipped on it, wishing it was an espresso and that instead of sitting in a cold room with his manic mother, wishing he was enjoying a chilly morning in the arms of Vanessa. Or Camilla. Or Elena.

"Just wait until you see her, Draco. Astoria has grown into such a beautiful young witch, and very intelligent too; she just launched a fashion magazine last month and it has already taken Europe by storm."

With a roll of his eyes, he reached for a muffin. "Yes, mother."

"Oh, you two would make such a lovely couple, Draco dear." His mother beamed, "please tell me you'll consider taking her to the gala." She winked before taking a drink from her steaming cup of tea.

He sighed and dropped his muffin back on his plate before standing up and looking at her.

"I'll consider it mother, but honestly, I'd rather go alone."

"_Alone?_ " Narcissa Malfoy firmly laid her cup down and stared horror-struck at her son, "To the Gala of the year? I think not Draco. You can't possibly be serious, Malfoy men _never_ arrive unaccompanied. No, that won't do. I'll owl Astoria right this instant and have her go with you; I know she'll be positively thrilled!" And without another glance at her son, the blonde woman elegantly left the table and the room.

To say that the Malfoy heir was mad would have been an understatement.

The house elf waiting on them throughout breakfast slowly walked backwards towards the wall and with once last glance at his master, disappeared with a gentle 'pop'.

In the span of 2 seconds the young wizard had gone from being completely detached to bordering homicidal thanks to his _dear_ mother.

Breathing harshly he tried to compose himself as he weighed his options.

Either he could go marching down to his mother's study and confront her about her running his life, or he could finish his bland breakfast, completely ignore what had transpire and attend the gala with one very attractive, very pureblood and very annoying Slytherin.

To be completely honest, he had only said he'd go alone just to spite his mother. But now that he considered it, having her owl Astoria would rid him of the trouble of finding a _suitable_ witch; after all, Astoria couldn't be _that_ bad if mother suggested her. But sure, if he chose to accept her, his mother would believe herself the winner and get her way, but he would also be rid of the effort of having to 'politely' reject the 100 plus vultures that were bound to go after him throughout that night; Astoria would do the work all by herself. And he could even land an easy shag afterwards.

Self-preservation or shag?

Shag.

Sighing slowly and dropping his shoulders as he relaxed, he snapped his fingers and ordered the appearing house elf to bring him some tea as he sat himself back down to finish his breakfast.

He would go to the gala with Astoria, abandon her at some point and see what the Ministry wanted, find her at the end of the evening and _beg_ forgiveness, partake in unnamed activities throughout the night to early morning, and once they both were satiated, return home and never get back to her about whatever she had made him promise to do as a payback.

Yes, that was a good plan. Mother would be happy, for the most part, and he would be pleased.

Taking a bite from a surprisingly warm muffin, he smiled.

Saturday looked to be a bit more promising.

* * *

_Friday 7:15am_

_The Burrow_

Ginny Weasley had never considered herself to be a comforting type of woman. On times of trouble at the family, she would usually let her mother do all the work as she sat and watched attentively. How her mother could feel all those types of emotions at the same time and console people in the specific way they need to be aided, was beyond her. So when Ron arrived at Burrow Friday morning, shortly after her own arrival from Germany, puffing away at his lungs with eyes red as blood and utterly disheveled, she moved to the side and allowed her mother to do what she did best.

"SHE SAID NO! SHE BLOODY REFUSED ME. ME! RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE SHE, THAT BITCH!"

"Ron, what-"

"AFTER TWO LONG BLISSFUL YEARS TOGETHER, SHE TELLS ME SHE'S HAD A CHANGE OF HEART AND THAT SHE DOESN'T DESERVE ME! WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS SHE TO MAKE THAT DECISION?!"

"Ron, calm-"

"AND YOU KNOW WHATS THE BEST PART? APPARENTLY SHE'S BEEN FEELING THIS WAY FOR A WHILE, A WHILE! MERLIN, I KNEW OUR RELATIONSHIP WASN'T PERFECT BUT FOR HER TO BE FEELING THIS WAY AND NOT TELL ME ANYTHING IS PURE BETRAYAL!"

"Ron, please calm down." His mother walked briskly towards the wizard and pulled him down to a kitchen chair. "Now darling, please calmly explain what is going on."

"Arhhh, she broke up with me, mum!" The redhead angrily spat, before collapsing on the chair and sobbing into his arms. "Hermione broke up with me!"

Mrs. Weasley widened her eyes as she quietly turned to look at her only daughter, who just shrugged her shoulders and kept silent.

"What exactly happened, Ron?" the elder witch questioned, taking care to speak to him as calmly as possible.

She knew how flared Ron's temper could get. 25 years of tantrums and spats with her youngest son had taught her that the best way to get through him, was to ask as few questions as possible and then to quietly and patiently allow him to calm down on his own and retell the story.

After a few more seconds of dying down sobs, the wizard seemed to calm down and lifting his head back up from his arms leaned back on his chair and looked dejectedly at the two witches before him.

With a long sigh, he began.

"I proposed to her Wednesday night, on the eve of our three years together. I know you both told me to wait, but I just couldn't." A lonesome tear made its way down his freckled cheek. "I professed my love to her, mum, took her hand, got down on one knee and proposed to her! And she said no."

Molly Weasley and her daughter exchanged a worried glance before looking back at Ron.

"Ron, sweetheart –"

"I loved her, mother. And she broke my heart."

Taking his hand in hers, his mother gently drew circles around it before calmly continuing.

"Did she say why?"

He scoffed. "Something about not being good enough for me and feeling guilty at not being able to love me the way I deserve to be loved." He spat, "But honestly, who is she to decide that for me? I mean these past two years she gave no sign of being unhappy, no sign at all, and now suddenly she's changed?"

"Sometimes passion for our loved ones make us lose sight of where we are heading, Ron" spoke Ginny, looking at her redhead brother before staring blankly at her hands with a painful look on her face.

He ignored her. "Why did she have to do this to me, why did she have to wait so long to tell me this? Three years? Bloody hell, did she ever even love me?" he questioned, furiously standing up and pulling at his hair angrily.

"I'm sure she did sweetheart, in her own way," replied his mother gently. "But perhaps she realized that the love she had for you was not the same type of love you had for her." She paused to wait for the reaction her response might have on her son. After a few seconds of nothing, she continued, "I know it must hurt deeply, Ron, but at least she found the courage to tell you before things progressed even further."

"Courage? You think waiting three years to tell me she didn't feel the same way and leading me on, is courage, mother?"

"Ron, -"

"No! Cowardice is what it is! Not courage! A courageous person would have never done this to someone they supposedly _cared _about!"

"But, Ron-"

"NO BUTS MOTHER! SHE'S PLAYED ME LIKE A FOOL AND SHE'S GOING TO REGRET IT! Oh yes she is! She's going to wish she had never met me!" the young man roared, blood filling his face once more.

"Vengeance won't solve anything, Ron." Said his sister; slowly getting up from the table and moving towards the door to leave the scene.

He sneered at her. "What do you know, Ginny." He spat, "Don't act like you understand what is going on when you can't even feel anything anymore. Why Harry ever decided to marry you is beyond me, you're nothing but a cold, heartless bitch!"

"Ron! You will not talk to you sister like that!"

"But it's the truth mother, when has she ever shown any emotion? Any real emotion, not the fake show that she puts on whenever people are around?" he defended, glaring openly at his mum and pointing a finger at his youngest sibling. "And now she comes giving advice when she can't even understand what Hermione's betrayal is doing to me!"

"Ronald Weasley, that's enough! How dare you throw all your anger at someone who is only trying their best to help you, you ungrateful child! Apologize to your sister right this instance!" His mother bellowed.

"No! It's the truth and she needs to hear it from somebody!"

"How, dare you, you insuf-"

"It's alright, mum," sighed Ginny, turning slowly away from the door she was about to cross. "Ron's right." And without another word and an indifferent shrug of her shoulders, Ginny disappeared.

If a pin had dropped that second, its sound would have resonated across the room.

"How could you be so heartless, Ronald!" yelled his mother as she angrily shook a finger at him. "You know how your sister suffered after the war, it affected her the most and yet you throw it all in her face and call yourself the victim! Good heavens where did I go wrong with you, Ron! Just because you feel you have the money and the fame to look down on people doesn't give you the right to do it. You want to know why Hermione broke it off with you, or _betrayed_ you, as you are now calling it? Because you're a selfish man who only thinks of what he deserves and wants to run all relationships at the beat of his drum!

"I have never been this disappointed in you, Ron. Maybe once you start treating people like human beings, you'll start getting all that you want. Not because you demand it, but because for once in your life, you earned it."

And without another glance at her disgraced son, the elderly witch spun on her heels and left the room, leaving a very angry Ron Weasley alone in the kitchen floor.

With a last huff and another tug at his hair, the wizard disapparated.

* * *

_Saturday, 5:56pm_

_Hermione Granger's residence_

"Come on, Hermione, you have to come out eventually," drawled Ginny as she nonchalantly tapped on Hermione's bathroom door.

"I can't, Ginny."

"Yes you can, Hermione," sighed the pretty redhead. "So you declined a marriage proposal, big deal. Trust me when I say, you haven't been the first person to do that, and take comfort in the fact that you won't be the last. Now come out, the gala will be starting in almost an hour and we still have to get you ready."

"You didn't see the way he looked at me, Ginny. It's like I had ripped something away from him," said the brunette as she slowly opened her bathroom door.

"Trust me, Hermione. I know my brother, he can be a git when wants to and honestly, I think he deserved what he got. You two would have never worked out in the long run. Let him suffer a little. I'm glad someone was able to bring him down from his high horse."

"But he's your brother-"

"And what choice do I have in that matter. Sometimes I wish it had been him instead of Fred."

"Ginny, you don't mean that"

"I do Hermione, I really do. Fred was everything a brother and person could be. It's not fair."

Hermione furrowed her brows as she looked at her friend of over 5 years and leaned on her bathroom door frame.

Out of all the people she knew who took part in the Hogwarts battle, it was Ginny the one who had suffered the most after the bloodshed had ended. Hermione hadn't been very close with her then, but after it all had come to pass; something within Ginny had changed and even she noticed it. Gone was the passionate young woman who had firmly stood by them as they defended Hogwarts. Gone was that spark that shone on her eyes every time she was filled with an intense emotion. It was as if a part of Ginny had died along with Fred that night. Harry had been the one who took on the job of caring for her, even though he had some demons of his own left to fight. But it seemed like the time they had spent together had not only helped them regain their composure but tighten their bond as man and woman. Harry knew that the Ginny he had loved before the war would never return, but that was ok with him, because somewhere in between the fights with her and the struggle to help her kill her own demons, he had fallen in love with her all over again. And the same was evident with Ginny. After the war, she had come out cold and sometimes distant, but if you looked closely at her in times when she thought no one was paying attention, Hermione could see the admiration and love she held for her raven haired friend, even if she never showed it.

Looking then at the redhead stand gloomily by her bathroom door, Hermione knew that more talk about Ron would do more harm than good, not only to her, but to Ginny as well. So taking in a small breath and the young girl's hand in hers, she quickly dismissed the idea of her ex-boyfriend, and pulled Ginny into her bedroom.

"Come on, Ginny. Work your magic on me and make me as beautiful as yourself." She smiled as she sat in front of her large bedroom vanity and gave her friend a reassuring glance.

The redhead only rolled her eyes and grinned.

"About time, Hermione," she smirked and began her work.

* * *

"My lovely Astoria, thank you for replying so promptly to my owl! Dear Draco was absolutely thrilled when you accepted the invitation," lied Narcissa Malfoy as she welcomed in the beautiful black haired witch to the parlor. "He was beyond himself, really, the darling boy," she winked as she had one of the house elves offer the younger witch a drink. "He should be coming down soon; I'm sure he just wants to make sure he's all proper for his beautiful date."

"That's quite alright, Narcissa. No need to worry, I'm sure he'll come down shortly." The dark-haired witch grinned, sitting herself in the dark lush armchair and sipping at her tea. She had waited years for his return to the country; she could wait a little bit more.

"Always so amiable" Narcissa smiled at the young witch and sat herself next to her. "So tell me, darling, how's the magazine coming along?"

"Absolutely fantastic, Narcissa," beamed the young witch. "We just finished a shoot in Rome two days ago and now we're getting ready for the fashion show in Milan. You must come down and join us; it will be positively splendid to have such an admired woman as yourself in attendance," the pretty witch winked.

"Oh, sweet child stop it, you flatter me," said the eldest of the two, laughing gently.

"And _that_ is what she needs the least of right now, Astoria, so if I were you I would heed her suggestion and _stop it_," drawled Draco Malfoy, entering the room and walking towards his mother.

"Mother," he greeted as he gently bend to place a kiss on her cheek and turned to look at Astoria.

"Well, Astoria, you sure have grown up. No longer the round-faced girl I knew back at school, I see," he smirked, taking in her form and giving her an appreciative glance.

"Draco, how nice of you to join us," cut in his mother as she stood up quietly and placed a hand around his arm, squeezing tightly.

"My mother taught me to be punctual," he grinned and stepping out of his mother's grasp, extended a hand to Astoria and pulled her to his side.

"We'll be leaving now, mother. Don't wait up," and without waiting for a reply from the witch, the two dissapparated.

Narcissa Mafloy glared at the spot where her only son had stood. Merlin, he would be the death of her.

* * *

The Victoria Room, situated in the second floor of the Ministry of Magic was a colossal room which suited different purposes ranging from target practice training for the Aurors, to hosting battleship battle demonstrations. It was, however, mostly used for entertainment purposes thanks to its ability to accommodate large crowds.

At the current moment, the room was elegantly adorned with golden sashes around the walls and ice sculptures at every table. Beautifully ornamented willows decked each corner of the hall and a large painting depicting the final battle and victory over Voldemort hung beautifully over the entrance doors.

The hall's ceiling had been charmed to portray a clear night sky, allowing its occupants to marble at the closeness of the stars, while charmed balcony's permitted its guests a quick break from the commotion within its walls. Over all the decoration was moderate, but still gave the room a graceful look to all who entered it.

To Draco Malfoy however, the event was royally rubbish. They had arrived 30 minutes after the gala had commenced and he could already think of 104 other ways on how his evening could be spent. So far he can met with two overly exposed witches who had quickly disappeared thanks to Astoria's glare and four ministry officials who seemed to be very interested in how his mother was coping after her husband's tragic death. He quickly dismissed them with five well placed words and a sneered that would have made his late father proud.

To his utter surprise, however, Astoria Greengrass had been nothing short of the perfect companion for this absurdly unceremonial event. After accompanying him to the donation table by the entrance of the hall, she had played the perfect pureblood girlfriend role. She had listened to his complaining attentively and replied only when she had something good to say, which was surprisingly often. He was astonished to discover that her replies lacked neither tact nor intelligence. For once, his mother had been right about _something_; the witch by his side was brilliant. His plans of leaving her for the duration of the gala were therefore deleted from his mind and he contemplated the rest of the evening with her. He might be able to actually enjoy intelligent conversation with the witch before they became purely physical.

Sipping his champagne as Astoria dismissed yet another overly eager witch, he quickly spotted Blaise make an appearance with a pretty petite by his side. The tall Italian uninterestingly looked around the hall before spotting Draco and guiding his date towards the blonde.

He felt Astoria tense as they approached and allowing himself one glance down at her before Blaise reached them, he noted her narrowed eyes.

Interesting.

"Astoria," the tall wizard greeted her with a knowing smile

"Zabini," was her curt reply.

"Draco, glad you could join in the celebration," he grinned playfully, "Allow me to introduce my date for the evening: Adriana Dubois."

The pretty young witch smiled pleasantly at them before returning her gaze back to her date.

Not wasting any time in useless pleasantries, however, Blaise quickly looked down at Adriana and letting go of her hand, excused himself and the Malfoy heir.

"Adriana, love, Draco and I have some business to attend to, can you please entertain Astoria for a few minutes as we converse in private. Won't be long, promise," he said, giving her one more dashing smile and a kiss on the cheek, before turning to look at Draco who nodding his head at Astoria stepped aside and followed the Italian.

Maybe now things would begin to pick up.

"All's well, Draco?" his friend spoke as he lead the way to a nearby balcony.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"I'm glad. I appreciate you coming to the Gala, I know last time we spoke I wasn't able to explain things clearly, however I trust soon you'll soon get to be more intimate with the details." He spoke as he reached for a champagne glass before looking back at the blonde man before him.

"So, Astoria? I always thought you hated the little chit."

"Mother recommended her. However, she seems to have outgrown her childish banters."

"As well as her previously plain looks," finished Blaise as his stare moved towards the tall dark-haired witch standing by Adriana, completely ignoring the younger girl's wish for conversation.

"I suppose," replied Draco, observing his friend with interest.

Blaise took another drink of his glass and grinned at Draco. "I hope I'm not boring you; Shacklebolt should be arriving shortly."

Draco nodded suspiciously, and glanced at Blaise once more, watching him lean against the balcony rail, inspecting the room in front of him.

He moved towards the corner of the terrace, hiding himself from the crowd and leaned on the corner as he watched his supposed friend enjoy the quite that surrounded them.

Something had changed in Blaise, he was sure of it. The wizard had always been the silent type, however there was something different about this specific silence that he kept and Draco couldn't place a finger on. It was as if he was purposely mocking him with his lack of words.

Lost in his own musings he didn't notice two figures approach Blaise a few minutes later.

* * *

"Blaise!"

The Italian smiled at the two approaching females as he pushed off the balcony rail and greeted each one with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"But what visions you both are. _Arise fair suns and kill the envious moon_, indeed," he winked before accioing two champagne glasses and handing them off to the witches before him.

"Always the flirt," the small brunette in front of him smiled as the redhead next to her allowed him an amused smile.

"Just being honest, Hermione," he winked before taking another sip from his own glass.

"What a flirt indeed, Blaise" a deep masculine voice broke the gathering as a confident Draco Malfoy stepped out of the shadows.

If Hermione Granger thought Ron's proposal had been the highlight of her week, she had been sorely mistaken.

* * *

A/N:

Some terms:

_Vogel_ means bird in German

_Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon_ is a line from William Shakespeare's _Rome and Juliet_

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot.**

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!

* * *

Chapter 4

Merlin, those eyes.

Silver orbs were all that Hermione noticed as she stared at the proverbial figure before her.

Stormy grey when angered, silver when amused and a hint of blue when worried.

_The eyes are the windows to the soul_, her mom always used to say.

But to be granted access to Draco Malfoy's soul was not something that had ever been on Hermione's list of desires. Yet with every dream in which he approached her, she learned a new color to match an emotion and with each new emotion, she unraveled his soul. Granted the discoveries had all been made in dreams, but for the life of her, standing right in front of him not only sealed her suspicions that those dreams were more than mere fabrications of her imagination; the Malfoy she had witnessed in each, differed very little from the one who stood eight feet before her.

How was it even possible? Every book she had read about the subconscious had made her more sure of the fact that dreams were nothing more than an exercise for the mind to organize happening from everyday life and never to predict what was to come. She was smart enough to not buy into the divinations of dreams.

But then how could you explain this?

She stared at the wizard as she had done so many times in her dreams and noted that apart from minor physical changes he looked the same. Not the same from seven years ago, but the same from seven days prior when she had woken up to the lastest dream. How could her mind mold a figure throughout the years when the last time she had actually seen him he had been disguised as someone far from who he really was and prior to that he had been nothing but a boy, not the man who stood before her. How could her mind possibly know that the Draco Malfoy she had created was a copy of the flesh and blood that lived? No, it wasn't logically possible.

But it was happening. The proof she always demanded was right in front of her.

She may not be able to prove what each color really meant, but her eyes could not deceive her when they stared at a live version of the Malfoy from her dreams.

So if the Malfoy in her dreams was real…

A chill broke down through her as she fought the realization.

Merlin, if the Malfoy from her dreams was real, did that make the plot in every dream believable?

Her eyes widened as she took in the wizard before her.

* * *

Adrian Pucey had never much cared for the social life his so-called friends had always enjoyed. He played the part well when needed, but most of the time, if not every time, he would rather take a book's comfort over a night of drinking which would only lead to a massive headache the following day.

He should have been sorted into Ravenclaw, was what his father had always said, heavily disapproving of his only son carrying a book as a sole companion. His mother had encouraged his love for knowledge however, and assured him that he belonged in Slytherin, even though at the troubled age of 17 he hadn't realized it yet.

No, the cunning gene of the Slytherin house had not emerged until his middle 20 years on earth, when by chance his father had faced the fate he had always wished upon his own son. It hadn't devastated him, he wasn't bothered at all, but it was then that he realized that a Ravenclaw would never feel the sense of indifference over the loss of a parent that he had felt. He was indeed a Slytherin after all.

He wondered if he was human then. Was he granted the pleasure (or curse) of having no emotions? The answer came six months later when his mother, sick from the loss of a man who had never cared for her enough, took her own life to escape the pain that the daily life brought with the absence of her mate and the injustice of the case.

He hadn't wept for his lost mother. He hadn't gone to her funeral nor had he cared about the meager inheritance that was left to him, but one thing was sure; Adrain Pucey had never been as angry as had been that Monday morning when he walked into his mother's study only to find her slayed on the floor.

He loathed his father for doing this to his mother, he loathed the bastard that whipped the world of evil, but most of all, he loathed the Ministry for doing nothing about it and materializing whatever remains of life his mother had.

Standing present day in a gathering of backstabbing witches and wizards to celebrate what they thought was the end of all their troubles was just a means to an end for the tired young man.

He lurked at the furthest most corner of the hall and observed the assembly of people before him with calculating eyes. He hadn't seen the minister arrive yet and that had been his main concern. But upon realization of Draco Malfoy's entrance, the troubled man had changed course and directed his attention to the arrogant wizard.

He grinned mischievously then as a plan brewed in his mind.

Walking nonchalantly across the hall to the side of the room where the dinner tables were set he sat down next to a witch who stared at him with bored eyes as he removed his cloak and settled into a pleasant conversation with practiced ease.

Her name was Adriana.

A pretty little thing he noted, as she told him about her night's woes.

Too bad the night along with her life would end too soon.

Cutting her short on her complain about a dark-haired witch, he excused himself to the lavatory and promised to be back shortly to keep her company for the rest of the evening if her date didn't show back up. With a reassuring gesture he pointed to his cloak still hanging off the back of the chair and winked at her before he left the hall entirely. No one but the pretty witch noted his departure, but after all, no one ever noticed Adrain Pucey.

With a smirk he walked right out of the hall and didn't stop until he reached the entrance door of the Ministry. Taking one last look at the building in front of him he pulled out his wand and muttered a soft yet effective incantation.

The last thing Adriana Dubois ever saw was a curiously blinking glass that was secured in the cloak the wizard had just left behind.

* * *

Chaos.

Utter chaos was what Hermione found herself in shortly after Malfoy's reappearance.

Just as the thought about the wizard's life, or end of it, had crossed her mind an explosion threw her to the edge of the balcony, and almost over its banister had her foot not caught on the metal railing that connected the object of security to the balcony itself. Along with her foot, her leg had been squeezed between the rail with the force of the blast. The fire that was raging within the now destroyed hall was causing minor explosions of glass and wood, which needing an escape, flew out the balcony and into her exposed back. Pain raged in Hermione as she tried to push herself to the floor at no avail, she looked over to see Blaise holding an unconscious Ginny and covering the witch with his body so no debris dug itself in her.

She could feel the blood coat her back and knew her dress was nothing more than shreds of fabric holding its shape to her body only because of the glue her blood had become. The pain, merlin she felt like she was being burned alive with the heat of a thousand suns and wonder briefly if this is what her parent's felt when they had suffered the attack at Kings Cross during the war.

"Protego!" she heard someone yell and felt the cold magic guard the balcony from incoming damage.

Screams atop the roaring fire she could still hear however. Merlin, she had to free herself, there were people inside that needed her help, she couldn't be defeated by a bloody rail! But the pain was proving too much and unless she found a way of escape she would lose consciousness and who knew what would ensue then. She tugged at her leg once more as the darkness began to close in. No! She wouldn't allow it! She had to stay alert! With one last excruciating pull she liberated herself just as she felt arms wrap around her waist and bring her down to the balcony floor with a soft push. A large body cradled her away from the fire and pulled her close to the safety of what would have been oblivion. She felt the magic of the protection charm waver.

"Damn it, Granger, don't you dare lose consciousness on me," she distantly heard Malfoy bellow as he gently shook her.

The pain that cursed through her body was momentarily ignored as she opened her eyes and met Malfoy's silver blue ones looking at her with a frown marring his fair features. But with a fast blink her vision blurred as the pain of her scorched back registered back in and weakly she tried to pull herself from his grasp only to end up leaning forward on his arms as he surveyed her injured back.

She could feel his fingers gently touching the severe burn and closed her eyes tightly as the wizard performed a soothing charm that for the first few seconds seemed to be doing more bad than good. The pain lessened but she knew it would return eventually with full force.

"Stand up, Granger, we need to get out of here before the balcony collapses on us," Malfoy said as he cautiously lifted them both; his back still to the inferno that was inside. She could barely hear what he said over the roaring of the fire that had engulfed the Victoria room. Merlin all those people, she had to go help them, she couldn't just let them all burn to death!

"Don't you dare move, _Mudblood_," Malfoy spat as he grabbed her more tightly around the waist before she could make for the entrance while still holding onto him for support. He pushed her firmly against his chest and angrily shouted in her ear.

"Unless you somehow are immune to the fiery furnace that is inside, which you clearly have shown not to be from the burns on your back, I advise you look after yourself before running in and doing more worse than good. I will not run after you! The Aurors have arrived so there is no need for your heroics; we need to get out before the whole building collapses."

Her eyes widened at his foul words. "Who do you think you bloody are, Malfoy?" she retorted angrily at him as her arms made to his chest and pounded on him to let her go with all the force she could muster. "I may not carry the title of Auror but I work in the department and can very much defend myself and them, I NEED TO GO!"

"No you DON'T!"

And before she could register what he was doing, she felt him lift her up onto his shoulder and secure her in place. He turned to face Blaise who holding an unconscious Ginny, nodded at her captor and dissaparated. A short second later they followed suite much to her infuriation.

* * *

"Hermione!"

Draco Malfoy deposited her none to gently in the arms of Harry Potter, who already relieved of the thought of losing his fiancé, hugged Hermione fiercely before checking her over and calling out a nurse.

St. Mungo's was in complete confusion.

"Harry, I'm fine, I swear!" she breathed, ignoring the pain that was slowing returning to her back. "What happened? Has everyone been accounted for?"

"Hermione you _need_ to be further checked for any internal injuries before anything more is discussed," rushed Harry as he hauled her to a nurse who covered her in a white robe and forcefully dragged her away.

"Harry-!"

The raven haired man grinned at his stubborn friend and let out a sigh of relief as he watched her leave the room in a bloody state.

Ginny had arrived a few minutes earlier with Blaise and if Hermione hadn't arrived seconds later he didn't know what he'd be doing this moment to search for her.

The whole hall had been completely destroyed. It's a miracle so many were saved. So far 200 out of the 650 attendees had been accounted for and confirmed alive; the 450 that were missing thus far either left the party at some point before the explosion or had perished. He hoped for the former but knew very well that his hope was lying to him. In the past 6th years that the gala had been hosted, hardly anyone left before the event ended.

"Potter," started Blaise, looking over at the Auror as a nurse finished tending to his wounds and moved on to Malfoy's. "How bad is it?"

"450 attendees suspected dead, not including anyone who might have been outside of the hall when the blast occurred. Half the ministry is gone."

Draco Malfoy briefly thought of Astoria.

"Has Astoria Greengrass been accounted for?" he asked as the nurse started caring for a nasty burn on his arm.

Potter snapped his head at him, taking in for the first time the blonde who had brought in Hermione.

"She hasn't come forth or been identified as of yet, we won't know more details until the investigation ends. "

Harry turned back to Blaise, "I have to go back and help with calming the flames that may remain; I only came to Mungo's in search for Ginny and Hermione. Thank you, Blaise, Malfoy." The Italian nodded briefly before looking at Draco and then back at Harry.

A silent discussion passed between the two Aurors and Harry nodded in agreement "I'll go get Shaklebolt as well." And in a gentle pop, he was gone.

"I suppose, now I'll be informed of what you so need from me," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes at the pathetic exchange of communications the two wizards had partaken in.

A pop announcing the arrival of Head Auror Shacklebold answered his question.

"Mr. Malfoy, please come with me if you would"

With another roll of his eyes, he followed. These bloody Aurors were so dramatic.

He followed Shaklebolt and Blaise to a room on the fifth floor of the hospital. The level, he noted, was completely bared, with most of the nurses and doctors caring for the victims in the first three floors.

A perfect place for a meeting that demanded secrecy.

They entered the room which contained a single size bed with a large bathroom connection, and a plain wooden circular desk in the middle of the room, nothing more. From the looks of it, the whole space hadn't been used in some time if the dust collecting on the bedspread was any indication of it. The curtain drawn window along with the silence and the cold of the room gave the chamber a somber look.

"Mr. Malfoy," began the eldest Auror, moving towards the desk. "I apologize for the manner in which this meeting is taking place, I'm sure no one present expected tonight's events to unfold as they so clearly have."

The blonde nodded.

"I do not wish to waste any more time, so I will get right to the point. In the course of the past month, 5 particular murders have taken place in Wales. These murders are particular in the fact that they very much resemble your late father's murder. 19 other similar killings have taken place throughout Europe with 3 in Madrid, Spain; a country I believe you are familiar with." Shaklebolt asked, staring at the young Malfoy, who stared back with a bored expression.

"So what if I am"

Blaised smirked at his friend's reply and rested a shoulder on the wall while he watched the scene before him.

"Mr. Malfoy," sighed Shaklebolt, "What we know is that these murders are all connected. What we don't know is who the murderer is, or how many may exist."

"And pray tell me, _sir_, what does the department's initial lack of interest in old murders and now incompetence with tracking down famed killers or copies, as you may have hinted, have to do with me?"

The Auror stared at the wizard with narrowed eyes.

"We may not have many Undercovers in the department, but I am well aware that you yourself have made quite a career out of the profession. With remarkable results as well." He pulled out his wand and with a flick of it had a thick stack of papers rested on the table before him. He made a point of looking at them.

"Found the elusive Key of Fire, which had been missing since the time of Merlin's death; Tracked down a ring of dragon dealers that had been diminishing the population in Romania; Broke the wards of the darkest castle in France, which not even French or British ministry official could aid in; the list goes on. Impressive resume for someone of 24 years of age, wouldn't you say?"

The blonde sneered "What is it that you want, Shaklebolt?"

"I want these murders to end. And for that we need your help."

"And if I refuse."

The eldest of the three sighed and paced the room, he didn't want to touch that topic. "I would prefer you didn't; I'm sure your mother would as well."

Silence. Blaise straightened his back as he heard the news with furrowed eyes.

Blackmail.

"What does my mother have to do with this?"

The wizard turned back to the youngster and lifted his arms to express a point. "Absolutely nothing if you help our efforts, 5 years in Azkaban for laundering money into Britain if not."

There is was: the reason for mother's brilliance as an executive.

"Draco, what we ask is simple. We'll team you up with one of our best Undercovers, give you all the budget that you may need, and leave you to track down the one responsible for these murders."

"When you say these murders, are you referring to the current ones, the one from two years ago, or both?"

Blaise snickered while Shaklebolt stared openly at Draco with a bored expression. "The current one, for now."

"What of this most recent criminal attack? Is the ministry going to draw up a list of the deceased and forgo the case as well?" he teased.

"Mr. Malfoy, we are all well aware of the mistake we made in years past. They are mistakes we are not willing to make again. If everything goes in our favor, then we will only need to worry about one killer."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then we'll proceed until the whole case is solved.

"Draco, in other circumstances I would have allowed the time for you to plan out your response, however, I'm afraid the conditions have changed and I will need your answer immediately."

Draco stared at the man pensively. Blaise had mentioned talk of an uproar, but he hadn't heard anything of these supposed murders. Could there be a connection? And if they suspected him then why would they recruit him for help? To keep an eye on him? But then what of the blast this evening, could that have something to do with it?

"Who were the victims?"

"That is confidential until you decide to help us."

Damn his mother for his apparent indefinite stay in England.

With a deep sigh and a long look to both Aurors, he narrowed his eyes and answered, "You leave me no choice. So tell me, who will I be _fortunate_ enough to work with while we get to the bottom of this case?"

He had a feeling he would not like the answer.

* * *

Hermione cursed her luck as another nurse came to aid in the removal of dead skin that had become her back.

"It's lucky a cooling charm was placed on your back right after the incident Ms. Granger, and that you were brought over to us so fast," stated a nurse as she gently wrapped her back up with the aid of her wand. "Second degree burns are not easy to treat if they have been left unattended for too long."

Turning Hermione over, the nurse handed her a robe and a potion, "make sure you apply this every night for the next four weeks to combat infection and eliminate scarring.

"You'll need to come back next week for a checkup to see how well you are progressing." And with a tired smile the nurse released her and moved on to the next burn victim.

Hermione pocketed the potion in her robe and nodded briefly. Her injuries could wait; she needed to find Ginny, and Harry.

Leaving the burn area, she stopped a frantic looking nurse and questioned Ginny Weasley's whereabouts. For once in her life she thanked the war for making their names well known.

The nurse quickly yelled out a room number before rushing down the hall and disappearing.

She moved out of the hall quickly before she was trampled by the running healers. There was commotion everywhere and so much blood. She knew the force of the blast had been massive, but from the looks of how the hospital was reacting, it seemed to have been much worse. Her adrenaline rush had diminshed while she was being treated for her burns and briefly allowed her the clarity to think back to what Malfoy had done to impede her entrance to the fiery hall. She gritted her teeth at the memory and grudgingly accepted that he had done right in not letting her go back in. But why would he care, anyway?

She found Ginny at the end of the hall where all the unconscious patients were being watched for any signs of improvement. Looking down at the witch, Hermione thought back and tried to remember the brief moments before the explosion; it all came back to her in slow motion. The red head had been standing to her right, while Blaise had been right in front of her and Malfoy off to the very far left. She should have been the one who received the most damage as she had been the closest to the balcony entrance, and in a sense she had, but magic did wonders when it came to external injuries. Ginny however had received not burns but debris. Something had hit her fully on the side of the head and she had been knocked out immediately. While the blast had pushed Hermione straight into the banister, it had knocked Blaise further to the right and collided with Ginny as she fell. Malfoy and Blaise seemed to be in good condition when she left them before being dragged to get treatment. Ginny was unconscious but stable. She was sore. Their injuries had not been life threatening, but still had caused enough worry. But what about the people inside the hall? She didn't know how much time had transpired from the attack, but it couldn't have been more than half an hour surely. Everything seemed to be moving so fast.

She needed to find Harry.

Running out the room and heading towards the lobby where Harry had been previously waiting she rounded a corner and collided with a tall mass.

"Merlin, Granger, do you always need saving?" sounded a familiar voice as she was roughly grabbed around the waist and spared a nasty fall. As soon as she was back on her feet however, the arm recoiled away and the figure moved quickly past her without another glance. All she noticed before it disappeared was blond hair and dark eyes. Malfoy.

She ignored his departure and rushed over to where Blaise Zabini and Shaklebolt were standing right across from the main entrance. Moments later Harry popped back and joined them.

"Hermione!" he greeted as she moved to join the three wizards, a worried expression marred their features.

"How bad is it?"

"Worse than we predicted," said Shaklebolt as he looked around the room, "we can't discuss anything further here. The area is still on high alert; there is an emergency meeting in five minutes, a patronus has been sent to all Aurors. The ministry is in lock down; we'll meet at Station Two."

Three nods were all he received before the four disappeared.

* * *

A/N: They meet! Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot.**

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one ;) I think its the longest chapter so far.

* * *

Chapter 5

A sliver of sunlight marked the horizon and the beginnings of a new day as Hermione Granger sorely apparated at her London flat only to fall tiredly at the foot of her bed. The events following the Victoria explosion had been a disaster with the Auror's meeting commencing the night. It all came crashing down afterwards faster than a falling star as they surveyed the scene of charcoal walls and hanging ceiling. Half of the ministry had been bitten off by the blast and what remained was an eerie reminder of what Voldemort's demise had failed to accomplish; peace.

She laid face down on her bed and stared at the intricate patterns her carpeted floor made. Her back was still smarting, but she had no complains; the pain could have been much worse. She had to apply a numbing charm for most of the night activities, but regardless she ignored whatever she did feel and worked on throughout the night without even a grimace to express the pain.

But now in the comforts of her home, with no one to watch her break, she tightly sealed her eyes and released a painful sob for all the injustice of this whole mess. 476 people lost, 450 from the blast and 26 employees that found themselves working that Saturday night in half of the Ministry side that collapsed. How many mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, wives and husbands would not return at daybreak to their families? How many more children would be left orphaned thanks to some lunatic's manic ways? It was all too similar to how it started with Voldemort; bombings, murders, kidnaps, and it scared her. She knew she had been naïve in hoping the past would never repeat itself; that instead of going in circles they would choose a straight path and learn from their mistakes. But wizards were fickle creatures. Was it too much to hope for a little peace? A little escape from blood and pain?

She rolled over onto her aching back and felt the pressure send jolts of pain throughout her body. She ignored it.

Auror Kent, Auror Mallory and Undercover Boot had been among the souls lost in the blast.

Terry Boot.

Just thinking the wizard's name made her heart clench in pain.

She closed her eyes and allowed the tears to roll down once more, grimacing at the pain the memories brought.

It had all started with him calling her an insufferable bossy witch and she shoving him squarely on the chest one evening when they had been partnered up for Auror training. She smiled. That had been the beginning of a beautiful friendship in her opinion. Harry and Ron, they were her brothers for life, she would die and kill for them, but with Terry it had been different. The bond they shared was not formed due to perilous events pushing them to battle together, no; their bond had been started by a mutual understanding of each other's intellect and then a mutual likeness and respect for it. She had never met someone like him before, someone who challenged her views and her intelligence whenever possible, not because he wanted to outdo her, but because he wanted to help her push beyond her limits and explore a new depth of mind. She owed him so much. He had been there for her as she waited her parent's forgives which never came, he had been there to hold her when Ron had demanded an answer to his courtship and she had felt like a confused child, he had been there when the wild idea of implementing the Undercover program at the Ministry had crossed her mind and he had been there next to her when they had decided to pursue the change and initiate the program. He had seen the vision she as well as a few other had seen of mixing everything in the pot and coming out with an Auror not only unbeatable in battle, but also in research and espionage and had pushed it with as much passion as she had.

She tightened her eyes once more and reached for the mental picture she always carried of him.

Brown locks that fell over green eyes and soft pale skin.

Terry Boot

She had been the one who delivered the news to Padma Patil that night, his bride of two short years who had been spared the blast to care for their 3 month old son who had fallen ill the night of the gala. Holding the crying witch in her arms as their baby slept a room away had been one of the hardest things she had done in a long time. Hermione had battled to hold herself together then for the sake of Padma, with whom she had developed a mild friendship thanks to Terry, but now laying on her back with fist clenched tight she allowed each new wave of emotion to tear through her body as it fought for air in every gasp she took. Tears rolled down with more intensity.

It wasn't fair.

A jolt of pain -not physical but mental- shattered her as she shut her eyes tighter and pounded at her bed. How could an already broken heart break again? She cried for him, she cried for Padma and she cried for little Julian and the unfairness of it all.

Clenching her fist one last time she felt the trickle of blood down her hand as her nails finally pieces her raw skin.

Hermione opened her eyes red with emotion and stared once more at the ceiling above her. What would he have done in her case? Had it been she the one who passed, what would he have done?

Sitting up, she slid down her bed and deposited herself on the floor in a bundle of tears, sweat and pain as she cradled her head with her arms and broke free of the chain that bid her to the normality that she had deceived herself to have lived in.

Memories of Terry, Fred, Lupin, Tonks and all the lost in the years past swarmed her mind as she sobbed freely into her arms. How many more would they lose?

A ray of light made its way into her room and little by little she felt the warm hues of morning fill her chamber with silent promises of new beginning, all lies to Hermione as she stared at the carpet once more with dying down sobs.

Years ago she had realized that their lives would never be what they had been prior to Hogwarts. She longed for the innocence childhood brought and the peace it sheltered her in. She longed for someone to hold her tight, to hold Padma tight when they faced adversities and loss. She longed for her parent's and for a tender hand to caress her features with promises of love and safety. But most of all she longed for a stop to all this madness.

She stared at the shadow the willow by her window made on the wall besides her bed thanks to the rising sun. The silhouette of a morning bird appeared on her wall as the creature rested on the tree and flapped its wings before setting off again into a never-ending flight.

_Hope is the thing with feathers that perches at the soul… _

Hermione let out a long sigh. What would he have done?

She stared down at her bloodied hands.

Shaking her head she placed them on the floor to support herself as she pushed herself off and stood up, turning to face the incoming light of a new morning that should have welcomed them with storms and rain instead of clear skies and sunny rays.

Hope.

Determination swarmed through her veins and she made the silent promise to her long lost friend. She would finish what she and Terry had started, she would fight and fight for this chapter to end and dedicate their victory to him. She would not let him down.

Walking towards her bedroom vanity to the collection of photographs of to the side, she picked up a two-year old picture and gazed into the green eyes of the man she had slowly fallen in love with.

Terry Boot beamed warmly at her as he stood between Hermione and a white dressed Padma, smiling happily on the best day of his life.

* * *

The coldness of the room slapped Draco Malfoy's chest like painful needles digging at his skin. Stepping out of the steamed bathroom, the blonde nonchalantly secured the wrapped towel around his waist once more and headed for his closet; water droplets coursing down this skin and hitting the hard wooden floor of his dormitory. His bare feet settled inside the medium size chamber that hosted his garments as the tall wizard surveyed the grey and black that filled the space before him. He pulled out a pair of casual slacks and a silver polo before he accioed his undergarments and returned to the emerald and silver room that was his childhood bedroom.

He surveyed himself briefly on the mirror facing his bed and his eyes wandered to the burns and cuts he had secured the night prior at the Victorian explosion. He, as well as the nurse, had done a good job of treating the wounds and with the help of a glamour charm the scars that remain would never be seen again; just like his dark mark. He turned back to face the clothes and allowed the towel to drop and puddle at his feet. With a swift of his wand he was dry and with another the clothes apparated themselves on him leaving Draco Malfoy impeccably dressed in less than a minute. Heading back to the now cold bathroom to finish the morning routine he surveyed himself on the mirror once more and passed a hand through his locks, making them fall carelessly in place.

If someone were to look at him from afar, all they would see would be the same perfect looking Draco Malfoy that graced the news covers with his sharp features and pale demeanor. Looking at himself closely though, Draco took in the dryness of his skin and the dark shadows underneath his silver eyes, tale tell signs that the night had failed to accomplish its job.

He had arrived at the Manor shortly before dawn only to find his mother is hysterics. The Malfoy matriarch had rushed to him as he stepped out of the fireplace and wept openly on his arms, thanking whatever deities she held close to her heart for the safety of her one son. He had stared at the blond head that hugged his torso tightly as her tears stained his silver suite with wide eyes. Only twice before had he seen his mother act this way; once before he got the dark mark at the age of sixteen, and once again after she found him alive after the Hogwarts battle.

Contrary to popular belief, his mother wasn't completely heartless, at least not when it came to her only son. She was hard on him and severely strict like his father had been, yes, but deep down beyond the mask of indifference that she tried so hard at first to wear he knew she was only following years of Malfoy tradition when it came to raising sons.

It hadn't always been like that. He'd still remember every now and then the games he played with her during his childhood years, before he had left for Hogwarts and her whole demeanor towards him had changed. No, at the age of 11 you couldn't cuddle a son the way you'd cuddle a daughter if you wished him to grow to be a proper man. His father had taken reigns of what had remained of his childhood then. He had molded him, with words and sometimes with curses into a proper Malfoy man. Draco had rejoiced at the attention his father had bestowed upon him; he had been proud of his name, proud to be the son of such a powerful man and had tried to emulate his father in every way possible, never wanting to let the elder man down. But with each step he took towards his father, he separated more from his mother and blindly began to fill the shoes his father had laid out for him.

After the attack in the Ministry and the visit at Mungo's he had taken his time in returning to the manor and instead had passed the hours in a dark bar in Knockturn Alley to drink away the remainder of the night and lose himself in this thoughts.

His mother, accustomed of staying up long after normal hours had found herself reading the midnight's Prophet when the news showed themselves to her and had her frantically awaiting her son's return.

He had soothed her with affection he very rarely showed and assured her that his injuries had not been more than fickle burns and meager scratches. Taking her back to her dormitory, he had laid her down to sleep and allowed himself a smile at the show of love she demonstrated she still retained for him.

Sadly, tucking his own mother in bed had been the highlight of his night.

Draco had tossed and turned for the remaining hours of darkness that were left, willing his mind to shut down and allow him a few moment's rest. He would have gladly gambled his inheritance away if he had been able to buy sleep from his formidable mind. But all he saw when he closed his eyes were red explosions and all he heard was Shaklebolt's demand.

There was always something, wasn't there? Never would he be allowed a good night's rest.

When the sun finally showed itself through his window, he dropped the fight and finally gave into his thoughts for what seemed to be 10th time that night.

He stared blankly at his reflection from his bed and traveled back seven hours, when the whole mess had commenced. He closed his eyes and sank deeply into his mattress.

So either the murder was back at it again or another version had decided to take its place. And either they thought he had something to do with it or the new attack or they honestly just needed his help. He doubted the ministry would do something without an ulterior motive however. So they suspected him and what better place to have him watched that in the presence of their beloved know-it-all Hermione Granger. The flame of anger picked up then as he rested on his bed and thought of the worthless girl. Had he known prior that he would be working with her, we would have just left and appareated only himself to the hospital. Merlin, not only would she haunt his dreams but now she would haunt his daily life. At the gala upon first glance he had briefly considered her a nobody, trying to ignore that right in front of him stood the bloody witch who wouldn't leave him alone, even if she had no knowledge of it. She looked proper enough and if he recalled from school, rumors had it she was agreeable whenever she kept her mouth shut. As long as he kept her at arm's length and ignored her as much as possible whilst in the country no harm could come to him. He'd go and get some illegal potion to wash her off his subconscious and the issue would be done with. But now thanks to his rotten luck, he'd be stuck with her until the bloody case was resolved, or at least until they realized he was not culpable for any of the attacks. Find the killer? He had no desire in justice for his father. He would have walked right out and left his mother to rot in Azkaban if he hadn't had some love for the witch.

Well, he wasn't going to make it easy for Granger; that was for sure. He had stretched his long limbs over his head and agreeing with the day that no sleep would come to him, he wandered to the bathroom and began what he hoped would be a fast day.

Staring at himself again in the mirror an hour later he groaned at his bad fortune and wrapped up the morning ritual before heading for a much needed breakfast. He only hoped his mother would not be present.

* * *

Hermione walked through the lower ground of the ministry and peered over the hallways for any signs of presence at the Auror's office. Everyone in the department had not left until the start of the day along with her and she pretty much hoped that she'd be able to spend this time alone to continue the work she had left off at the night before. She needed to escape the rays of her apartment and luckily for her; the Auror's department was situated in the underground floor of the ministry and far from the damage of the bombings. She walked the dark hallways until she reached her office door and quietly opened the door.

Her office was just as she had left it the day before, forms and reports accumulating on her desk. A workaholic's office Terry had once called it when they were still partners and frequented her office almost hourly. She gave the memory a sad smile before heading over to her desk and with her wand conjured up a small orb that shone like a mild sun. She hadn't slept at all once she had arrived back home. Three hours later, cleaned, calmed down, hair pulled back and comfortably dressed in loose black slacks and a fitting cardigan she apparated back to her second home with more determination than ever expected from someone who had just spent the past 12 hours in a whirlpool of emotions.

For the next two hours Hermione dived into the possible ingredients that could be found in the _Deletus Draught_, every now and then making trips to the Ministry's library to retrieve books that may aid her in her search. She had been unsuccessful in finding any meaningful information regarding the potion however; nowhere did it say how the potion came about or what went into it other than perhaps some part of the maker itself. All she had to work with was an answer to an equation that had no variables. There were over a hundred possible combinations and over a thousand possible ingredients they could use. Unless she was somehow gifted with any formula she didn't see this particular case wrapping up any time soon. Damn it.

A soft knock sounded on her door as she was roughly brought back to the present.

"Yes?"

The door opened to show a tired looking Harry Potter.

"Hermione, have you been here all day?" He asked surprised, his tired eyes looking wildly at her for any signs of lunacy.

"Don't be absurd, Harry" she replied, bending her head back over the book that lay before her. "I just got here a few hours ago." She looked back up at him and offered him an honest smile. "I couldn't sleep" she said as an excuse.

He passed a hand through his messy hair and down his face as he entered the room and deposited himself tiredly on the chair before her. He looked worn out.

"This whole night/day/14 hours have been torture." He said looking at her as he rested on the chair with his head bend towards the ceiling. "Still no signs of how the bombs could have made it to the gala; Lavender is going over the invitation list for any possible suspects right this instant." He looked down at his hands, "And all families of the deceased have been contacted."

She nodded and continued working on her notes.

"How's Ginny doing? Any response?"

"Not yet," he answered, "but the healers are not worried, they say its normal and she should wake up by the end of the day. I was just there with Ron," he paused at that and worriedly looked at her. "He, ehrm, wanted to see how she was doing."

"Of course. Well, if the healers say she should recuperate soon then all we can do is trust in them and hope they are right."

"I suppose," he agreed, "they are going to run some scans on her brain this afternoon and make sure nothing else could be causing this prolonged sleep."

"Good, I'll be up to visit after I'm done here, I'd like to be there when she wakes up" she smiled and looked sadly at Harry.

He gave her a troubled look.

"Listen, Hermione, I know things between you and Ron didn't work out as everybody wanted it to, but," he paused, "well, Ron's going through a really rough time here, he also just learned that he won't be in the main squad for the European Cup next year and he's pretty upset about that as well, so If you see him acting strange, don't take it to heart, you know how he gets."

Hermione eyed him carefully, "of course."

He offered her a soft smile and looked back at his hands, he wasn't sure how to approach the next subject.

"How are you coping, by the way? I know it's too resent, but still"

Hermione paused in her note taking and clenched her quill tightly. She had been expecting the question since the moment the wizard stepped into her office. "I'm fine, Harry."

She heard him sign and saw his hand reach for hers over the many scrolls that lay on the desk.

"Hermione," Harry began, drawing small circles on the back of her hand, "he was your partner, your other half in this department, almost. 'Fine' is not how you should be feeling."

Anger prickled at her senses as she gave her friend a pointed look.

"He wasn't my partner, Harry, and hadn't been for the past two years. We were close yes, but far from what you say." She said, "what do you expect from me, Harry?" She asked, pulling her hand from his grasp. He had no right to touch the subject. "Yes, Terry is dead and yes I'm selfish enough to wish it had been another Auror, but there is absolutely nothing that can be done. You should be more concerned for Padma anyways. Besides, either I can mope all day and put all that I, all that he and I worked on so hard aside and mope for weeks to come, or I take action and wrap this up the fastest way possible. Call me insensitive, Harry, but putting it all aside is an insult to his memory. He wouldn't have liked that."

Harry stared sadly at one of his best friends. He knew better than to have her open up to him. Hermione was a caring witch and always there to lend a shoulder to rest on and give well thought out advice, but when it came to her, she rarely expressed herself freely to anyone. Terry had been one of the few who had managed to do what he and even Ron had failed to accomplish in thirteen years.

"Alright, Hermione, I understand," he responded and stood up, "just make sure you take care of yourself, though."

She looked at him strangely before willing a smile.

"I will, Harry, don't worry about me." She closed the book in front of her and rested on the back of her office chair. "I'll be up at St. Mungos in a few hours, meet you there?"

The raven haired wizard smiled, "Definitely, Hermione." And giving her one last smile, he left the room.

Hermione let out a long sigh as she stared at the open door the wizard had just left through. She had done so well in pushing aside her sadness over Terry's death the past couple of hours as she had dived into the work and forgotten about the world around her. She didn't resent Harry for interrupting her time, but still it was hard to dive into the world of research again once _he _had come into mind once more.

She looked over to the wooden drawer that sat on the left side of the room and stared at the collection of photographs that had gathered over the years. In one stood Harry, Ron and she, all dressed in their Hogwarts robes and smiling tiredly yet happily on the last day of their Hogwarts years. A little to the left was a picture of her and Julian, the chubby little angel that she had been made godmother of. She loved the boy dearly, but sometimes wondered if it had been the world's cruel joke on her to be make her guardian of the child who belonged to the man she had lost her heart to? The man who had given his heart to another. She loved Padma as well she admitted, mostly because she made him happy. It had been hard at first, going out on weekend ventures with them once she had realized where her feelings laid. But over the course of those two years she had slowly learned to tame the flame she had for him and accept what had come to past. She wasn't the type to lose her morals and break a marriage due to her stupidity. And there had still been the issue of Ron, who perhaps she could have hope to love once more. So she loved Terry from afar, and enjoyed what affection she got from him, even if it was purely the friendship type.

Yes, people knew they were close, but they never would have guessed what she trully felt for him. He had been her best kept secret.

She gazed back down at the book and remembered a drawing he had mentioned he had made for her, to help her out with the potion, which contained possible combinations to some ingredients. She gritted her teeth pensively and wondered if entering his office in search of the papers would be too much for her to handle. Part of her wanted to head there immediately, not for the papers, but to just stand there, by his desk which looked much like hers and take in whatever essence that was left of him in the room before it was all lost. Yet part of her was afraid. Afraid of falling down the same hole she had just gotten herself out of.

Hermione stood up and headed toward the wooden drawer, pulling out another photograph and stared at the smiling faces of Terry and herself on the day they had finally been declared Undercovers. A single Terry then had hugged her tightly and kissed her on the cheek with such happiness that could have fed a world of chaos. A lonesome tear made its way down her cheek. She brought her hand up to the spot the kiss had landed and smiled sadly. "Terry" she whispered.

"So it was him, wasn't it?"

She swirled around in surprise and caused the frame to slip from her fingers and crashed into the floor; an array of glass surrounding her feet.

There standing by the open door where Harry had only stood minutes ago was Ron Weasley, holding a bouquet of tulips in his hands.

"Ron-"

"I should have known it." The redhead started shaking his head slowly, "I was so bloody blind."

"Ron, what are you talking about," she tensed, staring at his rapidly coloring face.

"_Terry_" he mocked her, "you had a thing for him didn't you? I refused to acknowledge it, but these past couple of days I've done nothing but think of all that our relationship was made of, and wondered why, why did you really break it off with me? I don't believe your hippogriff shit about not being good for each other. Who are you to decide that anyways? But then I realized it, it was because of him wasn't it? I felt so sure that you were mine and mine only and I completely ignored the late nights and early mornings you spend with him, here, 'working'" he hinted.

"Ron, whatever you are insinuating is completely off."

"Is it, Hermione?" He asked, "Because all I remember now is you saying 'Terry this, and Terry that…' I passed it off as nothing more than friendship and believed your utter obsession with work, not him! Damn it, Hermione you were such a bloody good actress. But now I see it." He accused, lifting a hand and motioning towards the broken picture by her feet.

"I mean, why else would you have rejected me as you did?" he spat, "Me? Me! Ronald Weasley! It just had to be him, it just had to be! He was the only male apart from Harry and I that you ever kept close by! Bloody hell, Hermione the man was married and still you fret after him, didn't you? Didn't you!"

Realization seemed to hit him with ample force as he took a step forward.

"You cheated on me!"

"Ron, that's absurd, I would never-"

"Physically or not, you cheated on me emotionally! How could you! And you didn't even try to stop yourself, you bitch! You went right along with it!" he screamed, stepping much closer to her.

"Ron, listen to me, you're not making any sense!"

"But you don't deny it, do you, Hermione?" He yelled

"Ron, how could you think I-"

"NO!" he roared, throwing the flowers at her feet, "NO, YOU DON'T DESERVE TO TALK, YOU DON'T DESERVE A SAY IN ANY OF THIS! How could you, Hermione, you bloody slag! How could you play me as you did? How could you pretend to feel something for me when all you would think about was him! How could be such a fraud! And not once did you try to fight it did you! DID YOU HERMIONE!" He pointed an accusing finger at her, "You will regret ever doing this to me."

"Ronald Weasley, how dare you!" Hermione stepped in towards him and slapped away the finger he pointed at her. "You want the answer? Yes, yes I loved him, yes I wanted him, and yes it was my mistake for not separating my feelings from him when I had the chance, but never once did I act on those feelings and when I learned of them I tried my hardest to pull away. Why did you think I stopped working every night as early as possible and made it to you at a decent hour? Why do you think I pushed to change partners! Why? Bloody hell I tried, Ronald, I tried to put space between Terry and I; I did all I could do without messing up work and my friendship with him! But I couldn't help it Ron, I couldn't!" She screamed, her voice straining with the tears that she willed not to fall. "You can't _help_ who you fall in love with!"

Her acknowledgement was like a slap to her face for the redheaded wizard.

"Yes, it was my fault, yes I accept all the hatred that you may have for me, but don't you dare presume that I willingly went along with the feelings I had for him! No, I fought them! And I fought for us as well, I tried, bloody hell, I tried to make it work Ron, but you just made it impossible half the time! And of course I conceded to all your harassment and acted the way you wanted me to act, but I couldn't do it any more, Ron. I didn't refuse your proposal because of Terry, Ron, I didn't lie to you the night you dropped down on one knee. He had nothing to do with it! I refused you because of _you_. We tried Ron, I fucking tried to make it work and maybe it would have been good at the beginning, but long after I knew my feelings for Terry, I realized that even if I had them for you instead of him, we just wouldn't have worked out, you and I are too different and we couldn't keep living a dream someone else had planned for us!"

"Oh, so you say it's my fault now! You don't love him anymore, is that so?" he roared and smashed the flowers with his foot, "then you won't mind if I do this then, would you!" and with a glare at her he ran out of her office in a misguided furry.

Hermione stood still for a few seconds, trying to believe he had actually done something so childish before she rushed after him. Rounding the corner of her office she caught his figure dash down the hallway straight towards Terry's office. Her heart dropped as he pulled his wand out to blast the closed door.

"Ron!"

But before she could reach him, the door opened on its own accord and a strong wind pushed a raging Ron against the wall.

"Out!" she heard a deep voice say

Hermione's eyes widen as she approached to room and noticed its occupant.

There, leaning leisurely against Terry's old desk was none other than Draco Malfoy, eyes cold as steel sending daggers at Ron.

"_You_ get out you worthless ferret!" Yelled Ron getting up on his feet again and stomping towards Malfoy with his wand raised. "You have no authority here and no permission whatsoever!"

"Ron stop it, bloody hell what do you want to accomplish with this!" She screamed, pulling out her own wand. "See, this right here is why I broke it off," she said signaling the space between her and Ron, "you act like a child, Ronald, never have I see you act mature enough to talk things out properly. Honestly what do you gain from all your tantrums!"

The keeper of the Chudley Cannons turned to her and glared violently, too angry and shocked at her picking Malfoy's intrusion over his.

"Oh and now you pick Malfoy over me! Great, just bloody brilliant Hermione! Just sink the dagger in deeper, why don't you!"

"Ron, you don't know what you're saying"

If his eyes could have sent lasers, she would have already been cut to pieces. He shook his head angrily at her and gestured pointlessly at her. "Right. Right, of course, Ron, the fool." He turned and stared at Malfoy, eying the wizard darkly before he took a look around the office, taking in for the first time its empty desk and drawers. Grinning evilly as he stepped toward Hermione and leaned in her ear, "seems like your beloved Boot was a fool as well." He snarled and without another glance at the two occupants he stormed off.

She stared at the empty space Ron had occupied and tightened her eyes, willing this to all be a nightmare and for her to wake up. Gods, could Ron be any more selfish? What was the point of this tantrum? She clenched her fists, oblivious to the curious stares she was receiving from the blonde. She felt completely lost. Terry, Ron, the explosion, deaths, it was all too much too take. Merlin what had happened to her? When had she become this weak girl?

A tight cough caught her attention and brought her back to the present. She swirled around and stared at Malfoy, wand raised high.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" She questioned, raising her wand a bit higher and aiming it at his chest suspiciously. "You have no clearance here."

He rolled his eyes at her, "put your wand aside, Granger, you are no one to raise it up at me, and I owe you no explanations." He drawled and moved towards the side of the office, to an empty drawer that sat open. It was then that she noticed the strangeness of the room. Apart from the furniture, it was completely bare. Gone were Terry's collection of books, gone were the portraits that hung on his wall, gone were all memories of the wizard she had known.

"Malfoy what have you done to the room," she asked aghast, raising her wand even higher and stepping closer to the wizard.

He turned from his spot and gave her an annoyed look.

"I haven't done anything, Granger" he answered, closing the drawer and walking over behind the desk to sit on its office chair.

She gaped at his actions and felt a shrill of rage pass through her.

"Malfoy, either you tell me right this minute what you are doing here, or I'll be forced to use action."

He scoffed at her, "'Action,' Granger?" he leaned on the chair's back and stared at her thought amused silver eyes. "Really, _Muddblood_, don't you ever get tired of playing the role of the annoying bitch?" he mocked. "The question should be, what have _you_ done?"

"One" she warned softly, narrowing her eyes at him

"Counting now are we, Granger?"

"Two"

He rolled his eyes and remained silent, a grin playing at his lips as he watched the witch with calculating eyes.

"Three! Stupe-"

Before the spell could escape her lips Malfoy procured his wand and with one swift movement had Hermione's wand in his hand.

"I think all this research has you a bit out of date in combat, Granger." He said in a bored tone and stood up taking slow steps towards the stunned brunette.

"Starting tomorrow, you will forgo your petty potions research and partake in defense training with the rest of the Aurors," he said, throwing her wand back at her.

She stared widely, catching her wand and pointing it at him once more, "What! Who do you think you are that you can order me around like this!" she yelled.

"Or maybe you are fully capable but due to the state of mind you can't seem to function properly." He wondered as an after-thought. "Regardless, I can't have my partner lacking in any aspect." He stopped his prowl right in front of her, briefly looking down at the tip of her wand that was scratching his chest. He watched her process the information and took pleasure in the look she threw at him.

"Partners? You're out of your mind, Malfoy, I work alone" she snickered, pushing the wand further into his chest.

His grin dropped and with narrowed eyes he reached for her wrist before she could pull away and brought her closer to him.

Her brown eyes shone with defiance at him and for an instance his gaze softened before filling again with bitter mockery.

"Brightest witch of her age, yet still always the last one to be let in when it comes to secrecy."

She could hear the laughter in his taunt.

"Malfoy, unhand me," she said, grimacing as his grasp on her wand hand grew tighter, making the wand fall from her hand.

"Manners, love" he grinned evilly at her.

"None for a snake" she spat, pushing him strongly with silent magic.

He let go of her then and staggered back. Allowing her a second of pleasure at having caught him off guard he let out a bark of laughter.

"Merlin, Granger! Wandless magic, good for you!" he smirked, "at least that will even the playing field," he said before motioning his hand and pushing her roughly with the same spell she used on him.

She staggered backwards towards the small center room table Terry's office contained and almost tripped over it had another spell from Malfoy not frozen her in mid-fall.

Shocked at his action she moved her eyes towards the blonde and caught a brief grin on his face before she unfroze and landed painfully on the table.

"That should teach you not to mess with me, muddblood." He said, pulling out a piece of parchment from his pants pocket and carelessly walking towards her. He paused where she lay and without another word, dropped the paper to the floor and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

A/N:

_Hope is the thing with feathers that perches at the soul… _is a line from Emily Dickinson's poem "Hope is the thing with feathers."

I feel like the story started out slow, but I trust that soon it will pick up speed now that Hermione and Draco have met.

Thanks for reading! Review and let me know what you think of it so far!


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed the story!

* * *

Chapter 6

Hermione felt betrayed. Utterly betrayed.

Sitting in the already dark living room of her London flat and listening to the wind roar outside her window, she felt a twinge of loyalty die in her heart as she stared once more at the parchment Malfoy had so unceremoniously dropped.

The fact that she had to learn from the prick himself that they had been partnered up instead of hearing it from Shaklebolt, or even Harry, had at first made her insides burn with anger, but now that the initial shock had died down she just felt completely empty and alone. After all she had done for the department this is how they treated her? Go behind her back and plot all this out without her knowledge? Did they really think she would refuse because of her famous history with the ferret? Yes she was stubborn but she was a professional first and foremost; she didn't have to like working with the ferret, but she would do it. Did they not understand that?

She recapped the brief interaction she had with Harry that night before Ginny had woken up. Apart from a brief hello, the two friends had remained silent; Hermione mostly out of anger and Harry out of confusion. Ginny's wakening had come to Harry's rescue a few minutes after and for a brief second Hermione had forgotten about her rage as the redhead threw her a rare honest smile at seeing the brunette by her bedside. It didn't last long though as Harry, taking opportunity of Hermione's change in countenance, rested his hand on her shoulder as he peered over at Ginny. She stiffened then, and holding on for a few more minutes for Ginny's sake, she left with a hug to the wounded girl and a nod to Harry, who in utter panic excused himself from Ginny's bedside a few seconds later and rushed after Hermione.

It was amazing how much power she sometimes felt she held over the boy-who-lived. She knew she was abusing it then, but for once she felt no guilt.

"_Hermione!"_

_She stopped on her tracks and with bored eyes turned and waited for the wizard to catch up._

"_Hermione, what's going on?" He sheepishly asked_

_She narrowed her eyes then and angrily shoved Malfoy's parchment in his hand._

_He looked questioningly at her before opening the offer. She noted his face drain of color as his eyes widened at her discovery. _

"_Where did you get this?" __He stammered, looking back at her with horror-struck eyes._

"_Does it matter?" she growled, stealing the paper back, "When were you planning on telling me, Potter?"_

_He cringed at her use of his surname._

_Harry signed and __lowered his gaze__; he knew they had been wrong in keeping it from her._

"_In theory, as soon as Malfoy accepted,__" he said looking down at the note that now rested on her hands, "__which would have been yesterday, but in light of the recent events…"_

"_And how long have you known about this scheme?" __She demanded. Merlin did they honestly think she wouldn't react to this? This was absurd!_

"_Hermione, don't be like that," he pleaded__, his green eyes filling with emotion__, "It was out of my hands. We didn't know if Malfoy would accept, so why have you worried over something that was not certain?"_

_Secret after secrets, damn them all._

"_Out of respect for me, Harry, out of common courtesy! Just think of how you would have felt if you learned__ of__ what people were plotting behind your back!" she retorted, careful to keep her voice low._

She had left then with an indignant huff, not even looking back at the wizard and apparated straight to her flat. Pouring herself a glass of elf wine she rested on her couch for the remained of the evening and well into the night to organize her thoughts. Now that the anger had died down, she felt a little ashamed at how she had handled the situation with Harry, but before she could drown herself in guilt – which she swore not to do anymore after Ron and his manipulating ways – she hardened her heart and convinced herself of being right at being angry with the raven haired wizard.

She shook her head and reaching over to the wine bottle, she poured herself another glass of the dark red liquid. Putting aside her feelings towards the Ministry she focused her attention on the actual subject that started the whole mess: Malfoy. Her face burned as she remembered their last encounter. It could have been the wine that increased the blood flow on her cheeks then, but anger at the bloody wizard and embarrassment at her lack of controlling the situation and letting him best her, must have also contributed to the pink coloring. Her pride had taken a hit when she had let him disarmed her so easily and later thrown her on her rear. She knew he was right about the whole training ordeal, and that had enraged her even more.

Bloody Malfoy. Just thinking the name made her insides squirm. She felt foolish then at realizing that she really didn't know the bloody git as well she thought she might have. She had unintentionally painted a picture of him in her mind – thanks to her dreams – of a man who had suffered too much and was on the brink of death. Thinking about it now, she realized how utterly stupid she had been. Clearly put, she had felt sorry for him. She had allowed the champagne to get to her head at the gala and believed what her dreams were telling her of his nearing death. She snorted at it now. To believe stupid dreams, is that how far she had fallen? Anyone with half a brain could read people's emotions anyways, and the fact that he looked the same in her dream, well, she had always been good at predicting people's change.

Opening her eyes and staring at the now empty glass in her hands, she studied the distorted reflection the glass caught of her.

Never again would she feel pity for the albino snake. She needed to pull his sodding image out of her mind and think of him as the blasted enemy that he had always been. No, she couldn't even think of his that way because of the case. Ugh, well one thing was certain - she couldn't let her emotions make her loose sense of the present again. Letting her guard down had only landed her with a very sore backside.

Merlin, she hated the man. She thought briefly of Terry then. He would have laughed at the turn of events; he knew how feverishly she hated all rumor about the famed wizard.

Terry. She couldn't let him down, and she wouldn't allow Malfoy to ruin her.

Clenching her eyes tight, she tensed and gave her body one more squeeze before she opened her eyes and rested them on the clock on her wall. The night would be coming to an end in four short hours and she needed to get some sleep.

Leaving the empty glass of wine on the kitchen counter she headed to her bedroom and collapsed with tiredness she didn't realize she possessed.

* * *

A gentle knock sounded on her office, gently shaking Hermione awake from a perturbed sleep. She growled angrily, more at falling asleep than being woken up, and with a light pinch on her arm and a stiff yawn she allowed the door to open with a flick of her wand.

A nervous Harry stood before her followed by Kingsley Shaklebolt and Blaise Zabini.

Hermione took in the three guests and welcomed them in with a nod of her head. They stood at the entrance however and noting Harry's uneasiness, she inwardly rolled her eyes at the wizard. She moved her gaze to a stout and serious looking Shaklebolt then finally to Blaise who sent her a playful wink.

"Undercover Granger," started the Head Auror

She stood up and left her desk, knowing very well that no further conversations would take place in her office.

Shaklebolt led the way down the corridor past running Aurors who were still very much in search of the culprit for the weekend's attacks. All of London was in lockdown and the whole Ministry was at mess – at least the areas that were occupied, which were pretty much only the lower chambers. The rest of the building had been closed down and officials were ordered to work from the safety of their homes. Security had increased a tenfold around the city and only the Auror department was in full swing.

She entered a small meeting space and observed the three wizards sit carefully before she joined in the action. The chair was rigid against her.

"Undercover Granger, I trust you know by now the situation we have with Draco Malfoy?" Asked the eldest wizard as he conjured up a large folder and pushed it towards her.

"Not fully." She answered, eyeing the papers curiously, a frown marring her features. "All I know is what his offer read; consultant Undercover, and partner _prospect_." She murmured the last word, pushing down the bile that rose from her stomach at the thought of working with the wizard.

"We apologize for the secrecy that was kept from you, Hermione," Shaklebolt continued, "in those forms," he said, motioning to the reports in front of her, "you will find all the information you might need pertaining to Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione only nodded and diligently opened the folder only to be greeted with a front cover picture of Malfoy himself along with personal information spewed about him. Merlin, even in black and white the bloody wizard looked attractive. She quickly turned the page around, not wanting to face the man's portrait and briefly shuffled through the report which apparently was a month by month account of his seven years spent away from the country.

"Detailed," she muttered before closing it.

"Incredibly," replied Blaise as he stood up and handed her a beautiful silver pendant that resembled a slithering viper; it was adorned with three small rubies-like rocks and was secured by a thin silver chain.

She eyes the object carefully before staring back at Blaise with questioning eyes, it had been a while since he had handed her any jewelry and she knew very well what each occasion called for.

"Spain?"

"Not yet, Miss Granger," replied Shaklebolt. "It's been over a year since your last mission and proper measures have to be taken. This necklace however," he said, gesturing towards the object on her palm, "will still serve as a tracking device for your safety and also as a communications tool and if need be, an escape tool."

"The top ruby will alert us to your whereabouts," confirmed Blaise, "the middle will allow us to communicate with you, and the last will serve as a diversion if the need arises for a quick getaway."

She lifted a curious eyebrow.

"Malfoy is not to be trusted, Hermione," blurted Harry. She noticed the Italian wizard roll his eyes at her friend and sat back down.

"What he _means_," Interjected Blaise, " Is that we don't have any _concrete_ evidence on were his loyalties lie."

She stared at the handsome wizard before her and tried to make out the hidden feelings behind his words. Looking down at the folder that lay on the table she wrinkled her forehead in thought.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy is the last standing death eater and his return to the United Kingdom has triggered some unwanted attention from what we believe might be potential Voldemort supporters, or at least family of those lost in the massacre two years ago."

She pulled her eyes away from the report and briefly noted Blaise studying her before narrowing her eyes once more and directing her next choice of words to the Head Auror. "So you want me to babysit, Malfoy?"

"Yes and no," replied Harry

"As you will read from the report on him, Hermione," started Shaklebolt once more, "He is probably one of the best, aside from yourself of course, at the type of fieldwork Undercovers partake in."

She frowned at that.

"You will be partnered up with him and tackle this murder case from your end of the department and at the same time keep track on him and any suspicions that may arise pertaining to the up-rise and this last attack.

"We're not completely sure if he has any involvement in the matter, but there may be others who may try to persuade him to join their ranks. If that's the case you will be the first person to notice anything in his countenance which will lead us to take proper action and keep him fully tracked. In essence you'll be juggling two cases at once."

Hermione studied the wizard briefly; he always seemed to be so composed.

"If he is as great as you make him out to be when it comes to his profession," she questioned, "do you think he'll be foolish enough to let it slip while in the company of a ministry official?"

"There is a possibility that he may or may not," said Blaise as he shifted on his chair uncomfortably, "it all depends on how close you are able to get to him."

She blanched.

"So let me get this straight – you think Malfoy could be a possible threat and may be involved, perhaps not now, but in the future with what is going on, not with the murders outside of the country, but rather with the attacks from two days ago? And at the same time you plan on using his _brilliance_ to move further in the murder case and have me keep track on him to assure everything is moving as it should?"

She looked at the three wizards in the room pointedly.

Harry looked a bit torn with guilt, Blaise looked at her with a pensive stare and Shaklebolt merely nodded.

"Correct, Miss Granger." The eldest of the three answered, "If anything does indeed happen, we trust you'll be able to find out."

She sighed.

"Who else knows of this?" She asked, playing with the charm on her hand.

"No one apart from Blaise, Harry, myself and now you." Replied Shaklebolt, "and as rules mandate it will stay that way."

"Of course, sir."

The eldest wizard made to stand up before stopping and turning back to her. "Hermione, I apologize for keeping you in the dark, it was not done out of malice, but as you now know, it's not an issue we want to have circulating around the ministry. All that people need to know is that he is aiding you in the case, nothing more," finished Shaklebolt before giving her a rare smile and leaving the office completely.

She nodded to his retreating back and stared thoughtfully at the necklace in her hands, toying with it carefully.

"You might want to start wearing that soon," said Blaise after a few minutes, staring at her with an amused expression, giving no signs of wanting to leave the presence of the two Gryffindors.

She gave him a small smile. Blaise had always been a mystery to her. Sometimes she felt as close to him as she felt to Harry, yet other times, rare as they were, he could have been Malfoy's double. She guessed that's what made him an asset when dealing with prisoners. His interrogations style never faltered – he knew how to read people and how to make them open up to him without the use of force or magic.

Sometimes he stared at her with a glint of hunger that made her uncomfortable at times, yet on other occasions he treated her with such gentleness and respect that whatever ill-conceived notions that had swarmed her mind about him were easily forgotten. He baffled her to no end.

She stared at him as if trying to make him out before forgoing the deed and curiously looking again at Malfoy's file.

"What do you know of Malfoy, Blaise?" she asked, lifting her gaze up at the wizard and tilting her head to the side. Harry remained silent, taken out of his thoughts by her question.

"There is really not much I can tell you, Hermione," he started, "he's not the same wizard that he was seven years ago. From the little interaction I've had with it, it would seem a lot has changed about him, all I suggest would be to be as open minded with him as you can." He stood up and reached for the pendant in her hands, pulling it gently away as he made to stand before her and smoothly strap the chain around her neck.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the motion but remained quiet.

With a final wink towards her and a nod to Harry he left the room nonchalantly.

She fingered the pendant on her neck and stared blankly at the space he had previously occupied. His action didn't bother her; she was used to his flirting ways, as almost every witch in the department was. But something he said resonated on her mind. _He didn't think Malfoy would be culpable at all. _

"Hermione?"

She was torn from her thoughts by bright green eyes staring at her worriedly across the desk.

"Harry," she sighed, a jolt of guilt washed over her as she took in his concerned looks. Maybe she did over react a little with the whole Malfoy news.

He gave her a bright smile that was just the further dig of the blade to the heart. She needed to apologize to her dear friend.

"Harry, I'm sorry about the way I reacted yesterday," she sighed, "I know it was uncalled for and you didn't deserve it."

She looked worriedly at him as his smile faded and was replaced by a troubled frown.

He closed his eyes and reached for her hand laying over Malfoy's files.

"It's alright, Hermione," he murmured, opening his eyes and giving her a small smile. He looked down at her hand in his and furrowed his brows.

"I met with Ron yesterday after Ginny woke," he started, not looking up at her still.

Hermione tensed in his grasp; she had completely forgotten about her encounter with the fiery redhead.

"He told me something peculiar," he continued, finally looking up at her and squeezing her hand gently before letting go. "Terry?"

She closed her eyes. Damn it, Ron.

"I don't know why he insists on bringing up the past and trying to find any excuse to our breakup." She said dejectedly. "Whatever I felt about Terry is the past, Harry. All I want to do is move forward.

"If you're wondering about my friendship with Terry, it was nothing more than the relationship you and I share. I didn't realize what I felt for him until after Padma, Harry, and you know very well I would have never tried to come between them. I tried to push him to the back of my mind and work with what I had with Ron, but that just didn't work out." She opened her eyes and stared at the deep pools of green that looked at her with a brother-like affection. "It wasn't Terry what broke us up, Harry. We did it ourselves, and the sooner Ron figures that out, the better."

He nodded briefly before resting his head on the table; his forehead touching the cool surface.

"I figured as much," Harry said, his voice muffled by the desk, "I just wanted to hear it from you."

She smiled at him then and reached for his own outstretched hand.

"Thanks for not reacting the way Ron would have wanted you to, Harry," she whispered as he raised his head and rested his chin on the table, giving her a slight grin.

"I love Ron as my brother, but even I can sometimes admit – he gets too carried away by emotion," Harry jeered. "I'm sorry for all that has happened, Hermione – The attack, Terry's loss and now you working with Malfoy on this, I know it's a lot to take in in such a short period of time."

"Nonsense, Harry," she smiled, "It's my job after all." He stood up then and pulled her up with him.

Just as she left the chair to stand by Harry, the door of the office opened. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at the intruder over Harry's shoulder.

"There you are, _Granger_," said Draco Malfoy, casually as ever as he stepped into the room and completely ignored Harry, who turned to face the blond and moved to stand by Hermione's side with a frown upon his face.

She quickly let go of Harry's hand, which did not go unnoticed by the blond, and firmly folded her arms over her chest.

"What do you want, _Malfoy_" she mimicked with the same undertone.

"Merlin, and they said you were supposed to be smart," he countered, rolling his eyes and nonchalantly placing his hands in his trouser pockets. "Training, _darling_," he hinted, "I told you yesterday you would be partaking in it, and you're already five minutes late."

Dropping her hands, the witch stared at him bewildered.

"I beg your pardon," she breathed, "who do you think you are Malfoy!" The blood within her veins picked up speed as she unconsciously took a step towards him. "You are _no one_ to give me orders, just because you were made my partner doesn't give you the right to boss me around like your fucking house elf!"

"Language, Granger," the blonde drawled, seemingly uninterested by her rant. He pulled one of his hands out of his pockets and examined it carefully. "I don't plan on saving your ass any time while we are partnered up in this joke of a case, so unless you are suicidal enough after the death of your boyfriend," he paused and leered at her response to his little jab, "then I'd advise you move your tinny little frame over to practice ground and start training." He smirked evilly and lowered his hand to his pocket once more.

The few minutes that passed were the longest Harry had ever experienced before Hermione saw red.

She stood rooted at the floor staring at her bloody downfall with wide eyes that were rapidly filling with anger and processed exactly what he had said. For a split second she thought she had heard something different, merlin he hadn't said she was suicidal after her _boyfriend's_ death, had he? Surely not. But the smirk that played at his lips and widened with each second that passed by was like cold water waking her up from her deep slumber. What happened after felt like an out of body experience for Hermione.

She had only ever properly thrown a much needed punch once in her life – vowing never to reduce herself to violence unless under extreme circumstances. That didn't mean she frowned upon the act of self-defense though – as an Auror she had been taught the art of Karate and Boxing and even though she hadn't practiced either in a while, the theory behind a well-placed punch still resided on her mind.

The original punch, more of a slap back then if she really thought about it, had been thrown at a much younger and possibly equally as annoying version of Draco Malfoy. Under the current circumstances however, she excused her no-violence-unless-needed rule as she automatically pulled her arm back. Pivoting on the ball of her feet in perfect karate style, she rotated her hips and leaned into the punch her fist colliding perfectly with the cheek of a very surprised Malfoy – her wrist twisting beautifully before impact.

To say that the blonde was taken completely off guard would have been the understatement of the century. Fury knew no name other than Hermione Granger as she firmly stood her ground and burned wholes with her eye at the shocked Malfoy that now stood at the far side of the door, leaning on the wall for a second before straightening back up. The punch had completely taken the wind out of him and pushed him almost four steps back from where he had been standing prior to her fiery release; he had almost fallen, almost. The shock soon turned to anger as the blonde sent her the deadliest glared he had ever thrown at someone, not even making any attempt containing the trickles of blood that resulted from a seemingly broken nose.

Harry stood rooted at his feet. To say he had been as surprised as Malfoy at Hermione's non-characteristically well-aimed punch would have been a good assumption. He slowly turned to stare at one of his best friends, her curls had come out of the secured grasp of her ponytail and seemed to have been given a life of their own; he was briefly reminded of her late cat. She was breathing heavily, still staring daggers at the blond, her cheeks lighting up with the anger that swam through her veins. Had it been another occasion, he would have said her appearance benefited from the coloring. Her pale blouse had come out slightly from the tucking's of her black slacks and he noted almost unintentionally that the color from her cheeks run all the way down her neck, making the pendant that rested above her chest stand out beautifully.

Never before had he seen her this mad. He almost felt pity for the blond.

He focused his attention back to Malfoy then and cringed at the sight of him; the ferret's left eye was surrounded by red skin.

Before he could do anything about what had just happened though, Hermione seemed to have recollected herself and without any acknowledgement, flew right past Malfoy and out the door.

Malfoy's eyes widened at her departure and without a second to spare rushed after her.

Harry stood firmly before rushing in after them.

Merlin, they would end up killing each other.

* * *

Hermione almost ran to her office, aware that not far behind her chased Malfoy.

What had she done?

She reached her door and throwing herself inside her office she pushed to close the wooden entrance before the blonde reached her, but just an inch before the door shut, the force of Malfoy's hand pushing on the door threw her forcefully back, making her lose her footing and almost tumbled flat on the floor. She heard the door lock and with wide eyes raised herself from her bend position to stare at the stormy silver orbs of the blonde who had minutes earlier suffered her anger.

He looked positively murderous.

Where had her bloody courage gone to?

He took a step towards her and instinctively she took one back.

The first thing that she noticed about the blonde as he slowly caged her by her desk was his height. He bloody towered over her small frame by a good two heads at least. She hated to admit it but at that moment he looked so bloody intimidating. But how dare he! How dare he bring up something so sensitive which he knew nothing about! Anger slowly started to make its way back to Hermione. She hardened her gaze at her intruder just as the back of her legs touched her desk.

"How. Dare. You." he whispered.

He was standing much too close for comfort; she could already feel her back protesting at her bending herself backwards away from him. He had her perfectly trapped; her legs pressed firmly between his and the cold wooden surface of the desk. Resting her hand on the table for support she stared back at him with as much courage as she could muster. His eyes were a darker shade of silver, drawing closer to a thundery grey with every second that passed by. She could spot the beginnings of a bruise by his left eye and inwardly grinned at the knowledge of giving the famed wizard a black eye.

"How dare I? How dare _you_, Malfoy!" she snapped

"Who do you think you are meddling in things that don't concern you! Just because we have been made partners doesn't give you the right to treat me like your bloody slave!"

He growled at that, a strand of hair falling over his deadly glare.

"Oh that's rich coming from someone who is so far lost that they resort to physical violence!" he almost screamed in her ear as he leaned closer to her.

"Get over yourself, _Malfoy_!" She screamed back. Why was he so bloody close to her anyways. She lifted a hand and placed it squarely on his chest, pushing him back. "You had absolutely no right to assume anything about my personal life! And the punch you got, you deserved!"

"You're a bloody fool, Granger," he yelled, leaning back a little, "how can you call yourself and Undercover if you can't even control yourself in times of stress! Is this what you are going to do every time someone you hate provokes you?" He leered, pointing his finger at his broken nose and darkening eyes. "What happens when we the one responsible for Saturday's attack gloats to you about killing your beloved Terry, are you going to throw yourself at him as well in craze delusion? Can your mindless brain wrap itself around the fact that not only would you be risking your life but also the life of the poor sod who will have to save you from whatever would ensure next?" He stepped away from her then, placing his hand on hip and raising the other one at her to make his point.

"Damn it, Granger, any one would think you suicidal, not just me!"

Hermione blanched at what he had just said. She furrowed her eyebrows; had Malfoy just expressed concern over her? Not possible. She watched him as he slowly backed away from her. His back was turned away from her and she noted his shoulders tense underneath his thin grey fitted oxford shirt, pulling the shirt even tighter around his back and underlining the muscle's contour. A brief picture of a quidditch seeker passed her mind before she discarded it. Merlin she was in the middle of an argument, why did she just compare his body to that of a quidditch player?

"Malfoy, you are not my savior, you are not my guard, you are nothing other than my bloody partner, I'm not going to apologize for what I did; you very well deserved it. You don't know me and you don't know anything of what happened before you decided to grace the bloody country with your presence, so don't act as if you're the victim here because I can assure you, you are far from it!"

He quickly turned around to face her and sneered at her with deadly eyes. He roughly passed a hand through his hair and straightened up. He stared at her deeply and for a split second she felt strangely conscious of herself. Suddenly a blank mask fell upon his features and covered all emotion that had previously been widely broadcasted. She was briefly reminded of the time she saw him in Singapore two years ago.

"Suit yourself, Granger" he stated with a bored tone. "I'm not apologizing for telling you what you need to hear. Don't think that I will grovel at your feet just because you helped save the country from a madman. You know very well that I am right, you need to train, and I'm not going to suffer the consequences of your negligence." Giving her only last stare he turned and made his way back to her door, throwing it open to reveal a red faced and out of breath Harry with his wand pulled out.

Malfoy must have put some sort of silencing spell along with the locking charm.

"She's all yours, Potter."


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot.**

A/N: Another chapter :) Happy Mother's Day to all the lovely mothers celebrating the day this month or any month :)

Thanks to all who reviewed and are following my story! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 7

_The room was dark. She could gingerly see the windows boarded up with the streaks of light fighting __their way through to inhabit the grimy room. Particles of dust danced in the air to a silence that hung __heavily. She made to sit up from her resting position on the floor but as quickly as her body moved, her __arm collided with a cold mass that rendered her immobile. Carefully tiling her head to the side Hermione __strained her sight to capture a body spawned merciless to her left. Trying to fight the dizziness that __the effort brought her she noted the body was placed perpendicular to hers; her arm had touched the __coldness of the person's face. Straining her eyes even more, she noticed blonde hair._

_A chill passed down her spine._

_Fighting her body's lack of cooperation she worked her muscles to lift herself to a sitting position. She felt __uncharacteristically heavier, as if gravity had multiplied and fought to keep her pasted to the floor. __Her vision blurred and dropping one heavy hand she supported her torso's weight on it. Her gaze fell __back on the body before her and almost instantly her dread was confirmed. She reached for the wizard __and almost painfully turned his body to face her. The stiffness of his form told her they had been in the __same position for longer than a few days. She let her hands wander across his face and reached for his __neck, she felt a soft release of air gentle enough that had her stop momentarily and wonder if she had __imagined it. Another brief release made her heart speed up and her hand continue its decent down his __neck in search of a beating pulse. She found it and breathed a sigh of relief at the bodily confirmation __that the wizard before her was alive. The pulse was slow and weak, but it was a pulse nonetheless._

_She pushed her body towards the wizard and lifting his head she positioned it on her lap. She didn't know why she did it, but some instinct inside her told her to do so, as if a distant memory was urging to break free and be remembered. A deep cut run across his cheek down his neck. By the looks of him, he might as well have been dragged all through hell and back. What once were casual black slacks now had burns and holes down the sides. His pristine blue shirt now lay mangled and soiled with sweat, grime and blood. She didn't want to guess what she must have looked like. Based on their lack of proper garment however, this hadn't been a planned assignment._

_The pounding on her head increased as she narrowed her eyes and tried to properly examine their __holding room. There was no visible door, meaning they had either been apparated in, or somewhere __there was a secret entrance. Based on the soreness of her body and the awkward position Malfoy lay, __she would have assumed the entrance resided in the ceiling. They must have been dropped through._

_She raised her head to the heavens and sneered where she saw the square tile that most looked like it __had been removed to allow for their descend onto the holding room. She noted the walls and estimated __the room to be about 10 feet high. She furrowed her brows and looked back down at herself and Malfoy. __As far as she could tell, no major bones were broken on either of them, meaning they must have been __already unconscious when they fell. _

_Eyeing Malfoy once more she focused on his left arm. The ripped sleeve was raised up to show enough of __what she could guess was a fading mark. She followed his arm up to his torso, landing back on his face __only to discover grey eyes staring back at her._

"_Malfoy," she gasped_

* * *

"That will be all," concluded Kingsley Shaklebolt, dismissing the Auror's before him with a wave of his hand before he too left the meeting room.

Hermione gingerly picked up her notes and scurried away before either Harry or Malfoy could approach her. She had hid away for the majority of the day in her office with the curtains drawn and a heavy lock on the door, and if it hadn't been for the mandatory meeting at noon, that's exactly where she would still find herself.

The previous day's events had long been set aside by the busy brunette, save the encounter with Malfoy that was. She had dwelt on it for most of the morning, later realizing that she had gained nothing more than a headache.

Oh how he infuriated her! Even after 24 long hours she still felt the spark of anger run through her every time she thought of the blasted albino man. She hated to think that she had acted out of furry, which in part she had done, but he had absolutely no right to bring Terry or anyone for that matter into whatever discussion he wanted to start with her. He deserved the punch he got along with many more.

Sitting back on her desk and looking at the unfinished spread of papers before her, she threw the quill in her hand at the desk with a disgruntled growl and fought the angry tears that threaten to spill.

Shaklebolt's latest meeting had been nothing short of a powerful slap at all the Aurors for the failure to uncover what went on at the weekend's gala. As with the Death Eater's massacre, so far they had not been able to find any evidence of what had gone on at the event. There had been absolutely no surveillance other than the one at the entrance of the ministry, and that in itself was not much of a hint at who could have been behind the attack. The list of registered attendees happened to have been a failure since only three-fourths of the total assumed attendees for the event had been registered. It was astounding how horribly inefficient and unorganized the gala had really been. And to have Malfoy bluntly point it out at the meeting dug the dagger deeper into Hermione. The Auror department was not completely in charge of the registration but they had been working security measures and his point at how horrible the Ministry as a whole had been had made her want to strangle the blonde right there; no mind that the Head Auror was present.

Shaklebolt had not mentioned much about the European murders, there had been no further attacks and all assignments were still in place for all of the partners. He had summoned her before the meeting started to make sure she filled Malfoy in with all she had been working on prior to his coming. From the way he spoke to her about the bloody wizard it seemed like he had been deaf to what had transpire between the two enemies the day before, either that or he was just ignoring it. For Hermione that was perfectly fine, and the act of filling Malfoy in with everything, well, she could wait on that. Besides, with the annoying giggle of all the female population in the Auror department, which mostly included the secretaries and entry Aurors, it seemed he was pretty busy already.

Her thoughts wandered back to the encounter she had with Malfoy's now-probably-sore-cheek. She gazed down at her hand and spied the gentle bruise that had formed during the night. For a moment she had thought of putting a glamour up to cover the mark, but with a nasty thought back to the blonde, she smirked and left the mark on as a symbol of her defeat over his enlarged ego.

Yet the thought of his taunt at her lack of professionalism and physique nagged at her. Anger boiled once more and with a decisive grunt she gathered the paper before her and tidying them up, she set them in a pile by the side of her desk.

Leaving her office locked behind her, Hermione walked past the long corridor of Auror offices and headed towards the changing room located on the level below. She would never confess it to Malfoy, but it was time to start training again. She rounded the corner and stopped briefly before the array of cubicles that hosted the various secretaries from the Auror Department along with a few she didn't recognize; they must have decided to come to the Ministry to work and use the spare room space that the Auror Department contained. Walking past the first few desks, she neared a small cluster of women and hearing the soft deep laugh of a male she quickly sped up her pace and walked pass the offending character. The female laughter ceased as she walked by and almost immediately she felt his presence behind her.

Of course, Draco Bloody Malfoy, why else would so many females suddenly find an interest in working at the office instead of the comforts of their own homes? Gritting her teeth angrily she sped up even more and made it to the lobby with the elevators. Briefly pausing as she walked by an open one she quickly picked up speed once more and headed for the stairs; Malfoy still a trailing her a distance away.

"Sudden craving for exercise, Granger?" he whistled a few feet behind her as she made her way down the winding staircase.

"Go back to your flock of fan girls, Malfoy, and leave me alone," She grumbled as she reached the staircase door and walked through it past the training station towards the female locker room.

All she heard of a reply was a low grumble of laughter before the closed the door on the insufferable man. He half surprised her though – she figured he would already have had it at her as soon as they left the main floor, it would be the Malfoy thing to do, after all. She rolled her eyes as she began to change into comfortable gear. Merlin, it had been too long since she last felt the stretchy material of her work out pants against her skin and it sort of made her wonder why she had kept from training for so long. She used to love going to runs with Terr–

Wiping a tear from her cheek she straighten herself up and pulled over a black fitted tee before she began working on her shoes. If she had used magic to change she would have been done in less than half the time she took to change manually, and in other circumstances she would have done it, but she needed time and something to occupy her mind at the moment. The last time she partook in any physical training, Terry had been with her; now she would do it alone.

Checking herself briefly on the full length mirror she grabbed a bottle of water from the locker room's supply cabinet and stepped out.

As soon as she opened the door, her eyes fell on a very different looking Malfoy. He was clad in fitted black pants and a compression t-shirt that did nothing to cover his well-toned body. Glaring at his smug face for the first time that whole day, she took noticed of the darkness around his left eye. The bruise wasn't as dark at the one on her hand, yet the effect it had on his features did nothing to lessen the anger she held for him. Of course, only ill-mannered, presumptuous bastards like Malfoy still looked like models even after their face had taken a beating.

"Enjoying the scenery, Granger?" he chimed, leaning more on the door frame leading to the running track.

Sighing and letting the locker room close softly behind her she approached the wizard and without even looking at him, pushed him to the side with her forearm, making sure her hands went nowhere near his muscled chest. Her struggles were in vain however, he remained rooted where he stood.

"Get out of the way, Malfoy,"

He tense even more at the push and rested more of his body weight on the side of the door, blocking her completely from it.

"Magic word?"

Hermione tense at his words. Terry would also say them to her whenever she got carried away with her demands. She felt the tickle of water start at her eyes and promptly shut them before anything worse could come from them. She released a deep sigh of defeat.

"Mafloy, please move."

She hated doing it, pleading for him to move. She felt so little and her pride took a sore hit, but she needed to get away from him before she could further humiliate herself with her tears. A few seconds passed before she felt the pressure leave her arm and opening her eyes, she saw him looking curiously at her. The dream from last night played at her mind again as she took in his grey eyes. For a split second, she wished they were green.

Walking briskly pass him she placed the water bottle on a holder by the door and began her run.

The track was empty and for that she was grateful. Controlling the atmosphere around her with a few charms she turned the room to replicate a cold cloudy London morning. She only hoped Malfoy would at least let her run in peace in the gloomy atmosphere.

Upgrading the working room had been one of the most expensive upgrades in the ministry, but it had been worth it. It wasn't open to only the Auror department, at least the track wasn't, Aurors still had the combat room for themselves, not including the Victoria room. But the overall training room, with the track and workout studios on the lower level and the weight equipment on the second floor giving a balcony view of the track, were all state of the art. A small quidditch pitch was even incorporated in the space inside the track, which could easy change to any sport wanted. And on the level bellow was an Olympic size swimming pool – mostly used for training purposes for the Aurors. Sometimes, Hermione thought it was all too much, but she began to recall times where she was grateful for the space and the equipment, especially during feuds with Ron and shortly after her discovered feelings towards Terry.

She sped up to a sprint and unconsciously made the room illusion a raining day. She had encounter a working out high after his fateful marriage, which had only lasted for almost a year before she realized the workout room did nothing but remind her of him, his marriage and her need for an escape. The last time she had been in the room had been 5 months prior to his death, only because they had to prepare for an assignment in France. It hadn't been just him and her then, she had made sure of it, they had been joined by a few new Undercovers and having the youngsters there had briefly helped her push away her previous feeling towards the room and the memories they brought.

* * *

Draco watched the petite witch run madly around the graying track as he settled himself on the second floor and started his usual weights regime.

Merlin, he always thought Granger had a melancholic streak to her; she couldn't possibly always be so chirpy and proper all the time as she had been back at school. But what he was seeing just didn't seem to fit with what he had always imagined. A melancholic Granger was in his eyes a moody Granger, which circled around a bossy Granger. But these dark clouds and lost look on her face almost reminded him of Potter.

And to think that one single wizard was probably the cause for her change in mood. That had surprised him the most; he didn't think she could possibly love anyone other than the red headed twat. And even using that word – love – was stretching it; she was all logic, no heart.

When he heard, or more like _eavesdrop_, the little shouting match between the Weasel and Granger he had imagined a petty affair, but it appeared the brunette had been deeply enamored with the wizard, even if she had refused to act on it.

The blonde almost applauded her for not breaking up the marriage, although he wasn't completely sure how Boot felt, or if he even knew of her feelings. Regardless, it was something he had never managed to separate from. A home-wrecker was what he had always been, and he secretly hatted it.

Draco had completely intended on annoying the living daylights out of her when he spied her that morning at the meeting, and had followed through with his plan up until the point when she very uncharacteristically-so heeded to his petty demand. Sure, he was still furious about what had transpire the day before – no matter that the small sore on his features added to his appeal, he still wanted her to somehow pay for it. However, seeing her so lost and utterly un-Granger like made him question his actions and almost unwillingly give her a rest. At least for today.

Settling in front of a pull up bar to the side of the room and watching Granger slow her pace to a tired jog, he began with the exercise of perfectly lifting his body up until his chin reached the top of the bar and released once more for another repetition.

He had been exercising every day since his move outside of the country and after seven long years, it had become a habit he never wanted to loose. Even before he decided on the career he chose, he had always been open to training and sports, although prior to leaving England and taking into consideration his closed up mind back then, the only sport that fitted into his mind was quidditch and any activity that improved his performance. Having lived in a foreign country and in a more relaxed community however, he had learned to love the muggle pastime of football as much as the muggles themselves and often times found himself surrounded by the non-magical folks as they enjoyed a mutual respect for the sport. To say that Draco Malfoy no longer saw muggles and muggleborns with disdain was a certain fact, although a fact not widely known to anyone except Daniel, his boss from Spain and his team mates from work.

He longed for a run right that instant.

Draco completed a last set of pull ups and looked pointedly back at the track below, searching for the gloomy witch and hoping she would be done shortly. He didn't really want to mess with her craze emotions at the moment; as much as he loved it, he loved running in peace much more.

He caught sight of her just as she was nearing to the entrance of the training room. Her brown tresses were surprisingly calm as they wobbled up and down from her still heavy run and he wondered for an instant how she had finally managed to train the mane of hair she frequented while in school. She stopped her sprint promptly and almost instantly bent over placing her hands on her knees. He moved to the balcony railing and spied her closer. Dumb witch, she needed to open her body up after such a strenuous run, not cut the air flow.

He rolled her eyes at her lack of knowledge and wondered how on earth she had even become successful at her line of work when suddenly he saw her straighten up and then promptly tumbled to the floor in a mass of limbs.

* * *

"Granger! Damn it, Granger, wake up!"

Hermione furrowed her brows at the distant voice and cautiously opened her eyes to see a very pale, very angry Draco Malfoy leering over her.

Merlin, had she actually passed out in the middle of the run? And in front of Malfoy no less! Could her day get any worse? She slowly pulled herself up to a sitting position and closed her eyes, if only that could shut her ears to the verbal abuse she was sure to get from the bloody man.

"Bloody hell, Granger, I told you to train, not kill yourself!" the pale man sneered at her.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy" she replied, slowly willing herself to move away from him.

"So you can finish killing yourself? I don't think so."

She turned to look at him then, and almost let off a small laugh, had he really just said that? Had she been more out of it than she was now, she probably would have let the sound escape her lips; thankfully she had miraculously missed hitting her head when she fell, else who knows what she could have done as well. She stared openly at the wizard and slowly gathering her wits, she rolled her eyes at him.

"Really, Malfoy, I'm flattered at your concern, but as I told you yesterday: I don't need you. So go away."

He snickered at that and moved from his sitting position to a steady crunch.

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger. I don't need your death on my conscience, or my record; I'd probably be accused of your murder."

She rolled her eyes once more as she tried to stand up. "Of course; don't need to get your hands dirtied even more with the likes of a muddblood," she muttered, pressing her hands on the floor as she made for a stand before falling straight down after a soft push up. Merlin, her legs felt like pudding.

Malfoy snickered again. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Granger." Placing one hand on her back and the other one around her arm, he hoisted her up roughly and set her on her wobbly feet.

"You're as light as a feather, do you even eat?" he mocked as she settled into her shoes and slowly shook away from his unyielding grasp.

She narrowed her eyes at him, she hated when people underestimated her based on her frame – she wasn't completely fragile.

"What do you care, Malfoy, let me go."

"And have you tumble down to the floor and break a hip at such young age?"

"Honestly, that almost sounds like you care," she chimed, flapping her arms at him and eventually receiving her release for a split second.

He moved to stand in front of her and bend his tall frame towards her, almost mimicking the stand an adult takes towards a child. "You seem to think people are deeply worried about you, Granger." He mocked, letting go of her briefly and grabbing her again as she staggered on her stand. "You don't need to delude yourself when it comes to me, however. The only thing that concerns me is this case; I don't need you to hinder my already late stay in this blood country." He straightened up and stared at her with mischievous eyes. Granger was a complete fool.

"It's always a means to an end with you, isn't it?" she said, finally ignoring the hand on her arm and reaching behind for her wand. Merlin, couldn't she get a day's break from Mafloy, she was sick of battling him.

"What else did you expect?" he grinned, eyeing the wand carefully.

"Nothing, from you, I suppose," she responded, idly ignoring him and pointing her wand towards her legs.

"Well said, now can you walk or are you going to blast yourself? I don't want to carry your sordid body back to Mungo's once more." He said, placing a hand on his hip.

"Fine with me," she huffed, muttering a spell that quickly alleviated the numbing sensation on her legs, "didn't think you could be strong enough to carry a healthy woman anyways." She smirked winningly at his narrowed eyes and pulled her arm away from his grasp, walking slowly but purposely away from him. But before her second step she was grabbed unceremoniously around the waist and hurled over his shoulder with the same delicacy one uses to handle a sack of potatoes.

"Malfoy! Bloody hell, Malfoy, you're as sensitive as a girl! Let me go!"

"And you're a complete waste of space, Granger – you don't weigh anything, you ill woman!" he growled, she could feel the grumbling of laughter coming from his chest.

Hermione started pounding at his back, with proved to be fruitless – lean as his muscles might have been they still felt like iron metal against her soft hands.

"Malfoy, I swear, if you don't unhand me this instant –"

"You'll what? Keep hitting me with the strength of a five-year old?"

"I'll –!"

"Hermione! Malfoy!"

A frazzled looking Harry ran into the room and stammered before them, breathing deeply as he tried to get some air into his lungs.

"Harry?" Hermione questioned over Malfoy's shoulders. The brute had twisted around to face Harry, leaving her rear end to welcome in her friend.

"Malfoy let me go!" she groaned, finally feeling his hands around her waist and back as he lowered her down to the floor. She sent him a pointed glare before quickly spinning towards Harry and losing her balance on the way. Malfoy grabbed her arms forcefully once more to steady her.

"What is it, Potter?" he said in an almost bored tone.

Harry looked steadily between the pair as he gathered his senses. A million thoughts were going to his head, and a few concerning the blonde man steadying Hermione.

"There's been another attack" he said looking pointedly at Malfoy before turning to Hermione openly, "its George."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm going on vacation for a week at the end of the month but I'll try to get another update before I go!

Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far!


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot.**

A/N: finally an update! Sorry for the long wait. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 8

They apparated with a purposeful pop on a desolated Diagon Alley. The atmosphere was filled with smoke and rubble, pointers of a burning building that lay 2 meters before them.

It seemed time had slowed down for the brunette as she took in Harry's words and immediately followed the raven haired man to the crime scene, vastly unaware of Malfoy's footsteps falling besides her as they made their way to the fires that held George captive.

Aurors who had apparated minutes after the explosion battled the flames that engulfed the now destroyed Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Donov!" Harry yelled as he approached an elderly Auror directing the controlling of the flames. "Have they found him yet?"

"No, Potter," the wizard yelled over the roar of burning wood, "These flames are not responding to our efforts, they have been charmed to increase with the application of water, we are trying everything we can to get to him!"

Hermione swirled around and watched in horror as the flames continued their damage, "Harry, are they positive he's in there?" she yelled at him, conjuring up her wand, there must be something other than the mere dirt spell that they were using to subdue the flames.

"He's in there, Hermione, he mandated the shop stay open amid all the terror, to keep spirits up, no one else was willing to manage it under the circumstances the city is facing – he's in there!"

She looked at him worriedly before raising up her wand and conjuring a tornado of sand.

"_Sabbia mare_" she yelled, the tornado coming to life and for a split second subduing the flames closes to them before another flame took the formers place with even more intensity.

"The fire is too strong, nothing is working!" shouted Donov as he too took aim at a new flame and unsuccessfully managed it.

The inferno before them roared to life with every spelled thrown at it; nothing calming its hunger for destruction. Hermione guarded her eyes as she tried to make sense of the fast crumbling building – if they couldn't kill the flames, they had to do something to at least get them to stop for enough time to go in and find George.

"We need a sensor to pinpoint his position," she heard a voice beside her yell, she turned and for the first time she took in Malfoy standing next to her. The heat from the atmosphere had increased the circulation of blood in his system and looking closely at his features she noted the redness that the heat brought in, his eyes were focused on the crumbling building, the flames reflecting in them.

"We have tried to locate him but with the heat created by the fire, all sensors are acting up, as of now, he could be anywhere!" shouted Donov once more as he threw the flames another sand spell.

Hermione gazed at Malfoy briefly before directing her eyes to the chaos before her. If only they knew were George was at and could somehow evade the flames, they might stand a chance.

Just then she felt a tug from behind and seconds later a burning piece of wood landed where she had stood. She looked up and saw Malfoy's narrowed eyes glaring at her.

"Potter, the fire is expanding, we need something to sustain it and we need it fast!" bellowed Donov as he too moved roughly out of another burning fragment's way.

"_Magica detectus_" screamed Harry, waiting for any signs of magic from inside the building,

"That won't work, the flames themselves are drenched in magic!" Hermione yelled, bringing her hands up to her head, pulling at her hair, there was only one way to find him and that was a full physical search.

Draco watched the flames with calculating eyes, his hand still holding on to Granger's shirt, preventing her to move forward into the burning tower. He knew what she was thinking, for he had the exact same thoughts running through his head. It was a miracle that the fire had been thus far contained from spreading onto other establishments, but whatever luck they had was bound to run out. This was dark magic; he could feel it crackling with the flames. It had been a long time since he had last felt the tingle of darkness poke at his senses, but no matter how long, he never forgot the feeling it brought him, that was the price one paid after serving a dark lord. He could feel his mark prickle with curiosity, the dormant darkness searching for the parent the flames had become. No – water, sand, wind – none of those elements would work on this type of arts. Dark magic only responded to dark magic.

He pulled Granger closer to him, her shirt lifting to expose her lower back before she quickly turned to him and stared with those bewildered eyes of hers.

The flames were growing larger by the second; greedily feeding of the oxygen the air contained much like a blood driven monster sucking away the remnants of life that its prey held on to. With one more explosion, the flames shone a new crimson, an eerie forecast of the blood that could soon be spilled.

Pulling her closer to him, he pressed her to him as his grip tightened around her shirt and his breath whispered in her ear.

"Clear everyone from the fire"

She stared at him questioningly before clarity dawn on her with a widening of her eyes.

"It's going to explode. Two mile radius minimum, Granger, set up wards." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You have five minutes."

* * *

For the years to come, of perhaps the seconds that remained, Draco would have asked himself what consumed him to perform such foolish act. What had deemed him immortal enough to walk into the fires and expect to walk out unharmed?

To be completely honest, he didn't really know.

It was nothing that he could have somehow proven beforehand and there had been no previous though mulling in his mind about it. All that it was, all the he knew, was what he felt the moment his mark began to grow to life again.

So as he walked freely towards the burning edifice, with no shielding charm and carelessly swatted away all other modes of protection being thrown to him by his aggravating new partner, Draco looked down at his arm and tore at the fabric that covered the ugly mark. Long ago had the charm he placed on it to hide it from the word disappeared. It now glowed brilliantly and proudly, more so that it had ever done in the past, even when the dark lord had still held power.

He looked at the mark as he entered the burning building, and his eyes shone with new knowledge and brief remembrance.

* * *

Hermione Granger stared at her supposed partner as he impulsively walked into the building, with no care whatsoever to the flames that could have very much been an illusion.

"The flames!" Shouted Donov, his eyes fixed on the retreating shape that was Malfoy, before peeling his gaze away and staring briefly at the two young Aurors besides him.

"The flames, they didn't burn him!"

"No," agreed Harry, turning to look back at Hermione, "it allowed him in."

Realization dawned on her as she remembered his parting words.

"Dark Magic," she whispered to herself

"Harry, we need everyone out of a three mile radius!" she screamed, adding a mile hoping it would improve their chances. She had no idea what Malfoy was intending to do, or what he may have already done, but she wasn't about to go researching for that now. Her heart screamed at her with doubt, but her logic could only absorb what she had just seen. If Malfoy could walk into the flames unharmed, the understanding he held over her regarding the magic that had been cast was nothing she could debate.

"Hermione-" Harry began, unsure of what he had just seen. "Hermione, no one, absolutely no one walks into flames like those without some powerful magic behind it, I don't trust it!" He screamed as another roar of explosion shook the earth.

"I don't know how he did it Harry, but I can only guess, and he's the only chance we have! Think of GEORGE!" She screamed, pulling out her wand and conjuring her patronus.

"All Aurors circle the building, three mile radius. Set up wards to contain the explosion." She added before sending her patronus with the information to the other Aurors.

Harry stared at her, her eyes dancing with the flames behind him.

"Trust me, Harry," she screamed, struggling to believe the words herself. Just then a small explosion sounded off the side of the building and in one quick movement half the shop tumbled to the ground. Something told her they only had precious minutes left.

"EVERYONE EVACUATE THE AREA!" Harry roared, pushing Donov to the side and sending his own patronus to alert whatever Aurors remained.

With a fleeting look to her best friend and a silent agreement between them, Hermione ran towards the end of a nearby alley, measuring the distance with every step she took. The heat that reached her was surprisingly worse than what she had experienced before the lengthy run, which made her wonder what the temperature was now at their previous location and breathe a sigh at their narrow escape. She could see the burning building among the evacuated stores that surrounded it and questioned briefly how many they could possibly save if somehow the flames were destroyed before the final explosion Malfoy had predicted. Methodically she began setting the wards, marking the radius with a protection shield and warding the buildings with all and any spells that came to her mind. She could feel the magic draining her of energy, it had been a long time since she had last used all of her reserves.

Alone in the pebbly alley, and holding on to her shaking wand with all the strength she could muster, she briefly thought of George and her disagreeable blonde partner. If something happened to George…

Ginny.

To think that the sanity of her best friend resided in the hands of a man who ten years prior would have given his all to watch them fall.

She shook her head and directed her entire focus to the building and the wards. She couldn't think about Ginny now, she couldn't think about him, she had to keep concentration.

The fire roared to life once more and she automatically stepped forward, pushing the wards tighter around the space. Both her hands were on her wand now and the tremors that cursed through her arms were intensifying by the second. How much longer would this last?

With determination in her eyes she pushed through and poured more of her magical energy into the shields. Her wand's vibrations had slowly began to diminish, be it because of her increase in concentration of her magic or something else, she didn't know, and at that moment she didn't much care, as long as it served the ending purpose.

_Means to and end… _

She remembered the phrase she had not so long ago used to describe Malfoy's motives.

"George?"

A soft voice echoed close behind her, so soft she almost wondered if was all part of the burning display before her; the fire's soft mockery at their attempts to save one more soul. The taunting was evident with every sudden blast the fire threw at them, a disgusting display of power, toying with them much like a cat would toy with its prey, giving it hope before snatching it away in one easy swallow.

Cautiously she twisted her head, still holding on firmly to her wand, and took in the tall frame of the girl behind her. Whatever blood the fire had caused to swim to her face was quickly drained as she took in Ginny Weasley's defeated stance.

"Ginny-"

"Is he really there, Hermione?" the red-head questioned.

The vibrations of her wand started to assault her hands again, but this time with much more force. Without answering the girl behind her, Hermione simply turned and concentrated all her efforts in the burning building before her. Whatever other materials were swarming within the radius she was trying so hard to keep had suddenly intensified. Her hands trembled more and finally giving into the glaring behind her, she sighed loudly before responding. Had Malfoy accomplished anything?

"I don't know, Ginny."

It was pointless to try to keep the youngest Weasley away, to split her energy between her shields and the unyielding girl. How Ginny had found out and escaped the hospital, Hermione didn't know. But all they could do now was wait, keep the shield and wait until the fire delivered its final blow.

She had a feeling they would not be waiting much longer.

* * *

It was almost painful, the power that was radiating from the mark, yet at the same time, it was mesmerizing what such power could do. He had entered the burning building without a single caution, and crossed the flames without a single burn. It was as if the mark was acting as a shield, eating the magic from the flames and covering every area of him with protection. But with every step he took, and every flame his mark put out, his own magic wavered. There was always a price to pay with darkness.

Draco took a calculating look around the entrance room and almost mechanically he conjured up a print of the building, marking all the doors and passage ways that the trick store contained. It had been a very simple spell to perfect while on his travels, and a useful one to know. Even with the fire eating away the first room, he could still make out the corners that made up the space and following the map, he walked briskly towards the furthest door.

It had been in his third year at Hogwarts, while consulting with Professor Snape on a potions assignment, that he had come across an interesting book while in his professor's office. He had wondered out loud about the topic of the dark arts book, but Snape, sensing his peaked curiosity in the subject had banished the book from his office. However that did nothing but increase his need to understand the types of fire that existed. So he had owled his father about said topic, and his father, for once proud in his son's interest in the dark arts had owled him back the same book that had resided in the potion master's grasps.

He never would have imagined that years later, he would be thanking his 13-year-old self and his curiosity.

He couldn't recall the spell that had given birth to this inferno, but he could recall the devastation that it brought. Nothing had ever been written to counter the spell, but all had been written about the destructions it had been blamed for. No, there was no way to undo this work, the only possible solution, or only possible way to minimize the blast was to contain it. Only once contained would it fight against itself until nothing remained. Judging from the color the flames had begun to take, whatever time he had left was shortly coming to a close.

He hoped Granger had heeded to his command.

It was in moments like these, moments where the line that divided life and death was blurred, that Draco Malfoy thrived. It was moment's like these that made him master at his work. Many brave and powerful witches and wizards had succumbed to pressure too early in the game, and however long it took them to regain composure marked how long their deaths would take. Maybe it was because of his upbringing, and the lack of emotion he was forced to take once he reached a certain age, or maybe it was just his way of coping with reality that made him even more focused on times when he didn't know if his next step would lead him to freedom or to death.

Composed and contained, Draco followed the map.

The mark might have helped him against the burns his body would have ensured, but it did nothing to protect him from the heat or the smoke. Ripping out part of his shirt he wrapped it around his head with a tight knot. There was no magic that would last too long against the fires and its fumes, the only physical way to keep safe was the good old muggle way. He chuckled at the thought before returning his attention to the map. He had to find Weasley and find him fast. He could feel his energy draining with every second that ticked by, and the last thing he needed was to lose consciousness. Draco never dreamed of what his death would look like, and he didn't know if the mark would be able to protect him from the blast, but one thing he knew, he was not dying in Weasley territory.

There was only one place in any building that was resistant to the fire, if he remembered correctly. It had been the creator's attempt at a sick joke on whoever was trapped in the building, giving them a brief amount of hope before the final explosion would end all their fears. But in that room, he hoped, was where he would find the git. He scanned the map purposely and with a brief look at the flames, he continued further up the building. There was only one spec at the north corner of the shop that had a different type of heat radiating from it and no flames around it.

* * *

Ginny stared at the flames that consumed her brother's once beloved shop with distant eyes. How was it possible that this was happening? Was it ever going to stop? She had briefly hoped that all the deaths and sorrow would disappear along with Voldemort himself, but that had just been a little girls hope amid a boom of despair. As she watched the flames battle on and Hermione try her hardest to work at the wards, her thoughts drifted to the Death Eater Massacre and a twisted smile lingered on her lips for a brief second before her conscience took hold over her emotions and the same fake indifference she previously held for the subject returned.

Her thoughts drifted to Ron and the last words they had shared when he visited the Burrow to confess his fail attempt at marrying Hermione. He was right, he was always right when it came to her after all, which is why she loathed him the most. She had changed greatly since the final war, her enthusiasm had diminished and her indifference for all things had increased. Or so they thought at least, but she had never been one to express emotion as freely as her mother or even Hermione. To be honest, sometimes she felt an emptiness not even space could contain. If was as if a wave had come to her bay and washed away all that she was. She wasn't broken, no to be broken you had to have something remaining. She had nothing.

So she stared at the burning building with the same blank stare she put on every time a horror like this occurred and restrained all sort of emotion that bubbled up every time another part of the building collapsed or another explosion sounded.

* * *

He reached the top of the stair with the aid of a badly designed banister that appeared when the back wall came to its death. The stairs had been far too burn to assure safe passage and the last thing he needed was a broken leg to delay him. His arms burned with the sting of force he had placed on the metal railing to lift himself up and already he was feeling his energy leave him faster and faster. He briefly pictured Granger trying to maneuver her way up but stopped when his eyes landed on the only door on the top floor that wasn't submerged in flames.

Draco walked cautiously towards the door, testing the floor's strength before each step he took; no use falling to his death so close to his target. Pulling out his wand he reached for the handle and opened the wooden door, taking into view an empty room. Coldness ran through his veins at seeing the uninhibited space and another wave of weariness hit him. He staggered on his feet, confusion and restlessness attacking him. It couldn't be, all signs pointed to the weasel being locked in the room.

"A bit too late, Malfoy"

He swirled and caught sight of a blurred figure before reaching for the door frame for support; his vision had distorted with the spin he had taken. But there, standing almost cynically behind him, was a dark shape. Shutting his eyes tight he opened them again and a clear sight greeted him of a figured covered completely in a black cloak. With the brightness of the room, the man stood out like a cancerous spot. And there, unconsciously resting on the intruders arms was George Weasley.

"Never thought you would trades sides after what they did to your father. What would he say, Malfoy?" The dark figure mocked him, the amusement evident on his tone.

"Who are you?" Draco asked, looking briefly at the flames.

"Don't worry, the flames won't devour you, not yet at least." The figure said. "The mark won't keep you safe for too long, however." He added, signaling the burning flesh in Draco's arm. "And as for who I am? Well, why ruin the fun now?

"But I'm glad you came, Potter is useless to me, there is nothing the four-eye can do. But you… so much potential. I chose the flames particularly for you, Draco, I remember how you used to obsess over them. Don't you remember?"

Draco stared at him callously.

"Of course, you wouldn't remember me, but that's the biggest hint you'll get."

In the strangers arms, George Weasley gently stirred, his eyes opening briefly before shutting again and losing consciousness with another squeeze from the masked man.

"What do you want?" voiced Draco, leaning closer to the door frame for support.

The dark man raised his hooded head and allowed a glimpse of light to reflect on his eyes. Green orbs like nothing Draco had seen before welcomed him.

"Join me"

He snorted; pealing his body off the door frame he was using for support and took one weak step forward. "Join you? I don't even know you," he breathed.

"You will" the eyes smiled

And with that the stranger tossed the unconscious Weasley towards him before dissapparating in a swirl of flames.

The stairs leading to the top floor collapsed like a stack of dominos and in one disoriented movement Draco lunged for the unconscious man right before the floor gave out. The flames burned a violent blue and in a confusion of roars, the ground was no more.


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Characters and Harry Potter world are owned solely by JKR. I just own this particular plot.**

A/N: Thanks so much to all who reviewed and added Oblique to their story alerts! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Chapter 9

Hermione sat worriedly by Ginny's bed, watching the younger witch's agitated breaths with concern as the red-head's frown deepened on her sleep. She reached over and squeezed the young girl's hand, a movement gone unnoticed by the far lost girl. 14 hours had passed since Malfoy apparated at St. Mungo's clutching George's limp body to him, mere seconds before the famed Weasley's store burst into a final spectacle of flames.

The explosion had been like nothing she had never experienced before. The blast, controlled within the wards, had eaten away all that the diameter contained including itself; it was like watching a snake eat its tail. First there had been a confusion of gases within the enclosure, the flames eating everything away until a final reaction pushed her off the floor and upon opening her eyes, she saw its aftermath: emptiness. It was as if someone had carved Diagon Alley like they would a cake, taking away the center piece and leaving a blunt whole in the middle.

Her main priority then had been Ginny. She had crawled towards the unconscious girl and with a quick wave of her wand, apparated them both to St. Mungo's.

"_Hermione!"_

_She landed painfully on her side and winced before looking up to meet Harry's worried eyes._

"_Harry," she breathed, and made to stand up as she watched her best friend pick up Ginny's body and carry her to an awaiting cart. It disappeared as soon as her frame left his arms._

"_Tell me, how is it that you always make it to St. Mungo's before me?" she sighed, resting her weight on a nearby chair. Looking up to meet Harry's gaze, she continued, "Did they make it?"_

_A brief wave of uneasiness passed his features before he straighten out. "George is… alive. But still in critical condition, which is more than what we could have hoped for."_

_She nodded briefly and stared at him to continue, her features straining with each second that passed by._

"_And Malfoy?" she finally asked._

_Harry gave her a cautious stare before responding._

"_He's in the fourth floor."_

She had gone to see him, just for the sake of believing that he was actually alive. Granted, what she felt for him was nothing compared to what her feelings for Terry had been, but losing two partners in such close time range, we'll not even she could have handled that, even if she had refused the partnership with him up until the explosion. Malfoy was a prat and she would always loathe him with all her might, but she didn't wish him dead.

It should have really been no surprise to see Narcissa Malfoy walk as elegant as ever out of her son's hospital room, but seeing the family matriarch stop and greet her as civilly as possible with a nod before continuing on was not something she had expected and briefly wondered what changes had really taken place in the Malfoy estate. Hermione had paused momentarily outside the door, she had wanted no one to witness her visit and yet she had run head on with one of the last person's on earth she'd want to encounter. Of course, the exchange of looks had been nothing to fear, but she knew that brief meeting would not be left a secret for too long. Did she really want to feed his bag of insults? Who knew what he'd come up with when learned that not only had his mother seen her approach the room, but that she had actually entered it as well, and he would know she'd enter it, even if no one had witnessed it, she just knew he'd figure it out.

Rolling her eyes and wavering slightly before making her decision she pushed the door open and stepped inside the dark room, her gaze falling on the sleeping man who had more often than not made her blood boil.

Apart from minor bruises, he looked completely unharmed, no signs whatsoever that he had been in any fires.

He laid still on his bed, arms set next to his torso with a thin sheet covering parts of his bare chest which moved gently up and down with the calmness of his breath.

Well, there she was, in her partner's hospital room, looking down at the arrogant git that had probably saved the sanity of her best friend. Wasn't that what she wanted?

Swallowing hard and checking the vitals, she gazed down at him once more. Even in his sleep she could see the strain his facial muscles endured, marring his features with scorn and worry. And even still, he was beautiful. She shook her head as if to clear it of all those thoughts and moved to turn back around when her eyes landed on a tightly wrapped bandage on his left forearm. Swallowing hard, she gazed back at the sleeping blonde's face and straightening her stance, walked out of the room, remembering that beautiful or not, he was still a Death Eater.

* * *

Two day's had passed until she saw him again. It seemed almost surreal; having him back to his usual demeanor after all she had seen. News of his involvement with George's "rescue" covered every inch of the Prophet and Witch Weekly, to her out most rage.

**"Draco Malfoy replaces Harry Potter as HERO!"**

At least the Prophet kept it somewhat professional, if calling him a galant wonder, counted as professional. At least it was better than Witch Weekly's exaggerated claim of him being a reincarnation of Merlin himself - a much more attractive Merlin, as they had not failed to point out. But all stories printed explained little of the fire and few even bothered to name George by name at all. It was as if the gaping hole that now made part of Diagon Alley was nothing more than a new project waiting to be filled. No questions were asked as to how the terrible crater appeared or even how Malfoy had truthfully survived the fire.

He had been kept under close watch while at St. Mungos, and as far as she knew, the only person allowed to speak with him outside of family was Shacklebolt. The dark wizard had mentioned nothing of the incident other than what was obvious during their meetings and she was frankly fed up with their secrecy. She was the one who was supposed to be watching him, how could she watch him properly if she didn't even know what to bloody look for? The mark on Malfoy's arm was point enough to start the discussion. She, Harry and Donov had all given accounts of what Malfoy had accomplished; of how he had walked unharmed into the fire's warm embrace. She knew the mark was behind that devious trick.

So, determined, Hermione made her way to Terry's old office and knocked purposely. After no reply she knocked again, louder than before. Five seconds later, she still had no response. Angrily she slapped the door with her palm as she tried to force herself in with her other hand tightly gripping the door knob.

"Malfoy! Open up!"

"I would, Granger, but a lunatic is preventing my entrance."

Hermione tensed and swirled around to find Malfoy leaning leisurely on the hallway wall and a few other Aurors looking at her comically. Her cheeks burned with anger as she narrowed her eyes at the blonde man smirking widely at her.

"Malfoy, a word," she stated, stepping aside and giving him space to unlock the door.

He rolled his eyes at her and pushed off his support to walk rapidly past her, the door opening automatically as he approached it.

The confidence of his step irked her even more as she followed behind him and closed the door promptly. He ignored her and walked up to his desk, sitting casually and pulling out a file of papers. Hermione stepped closer and unwillingly took in his appearance. Pristine and proper as always, he gave off the elegance of royalty, even in simple black slacks and dark silver fitted button down shirt. She noticed a slump if his shoulder however and wondered briefly if that had been an outcome of the fire. Trailing her eyes further down his left arm she saw the heavy bulge of bandage under his long shirt sleeve, covering up the main reason for her visit.

"Whenever you are done appraising my good looks, Granger, I'd appreciate it if you hurried up and ask whatever questions your great mind has devised and be done with it, I have many things to look over and your unattractive face is not one of them."

She flushed even more and approached the smug man's desk in four short steps. She eyed his mark wearily before he hid it away under the counter. Her eyes snapped back to his and for a second they shared a glimpse back at the past and their Hogwarts days and fights.

He was tense she could tell by the stiffness of his neck, and his eyes, it seemed like the man before her had declared himself an insomniac. She needed to treat this carefully if she wanted to get anything out of him.

"Well?" He pressed on, "don't tell me the key to shutting you up is my appearance"

She gritted her teeth, _conceited git. _

"What happened at George's shop?"

He lifted an eyebrow and resumed his work on the files before him.

"It caught fire and burned up, Granger." He replied, lifting his eyes up at her for a brief second before resuming his work, "I'm sure you can understand the concept of fire."

"Don't mock me, Malfoy. I know very well that was not normal magic and what you did with it was far from common," she eyed his left arm again, "fire doesn't create a crater in the middle of a square, nor does it spare anyone any burns."

He dropped the file and looked up at her questioningly before answering, "Did you not read the reports, Granger, or are those too advanced for your so called powerful brain? The fire did not cause the crater, a gas explosion did."

"And you think me thick enough to believe that?" She interjected, "then tell me, Draco Malfoy, wisest of all, why did you warn me about it? And how was it possible to go in unharmed?"

"Bloody hell, Granger, you just don't know when to quit do you?" he said heatedly, "Why did I warn you? Because I knew about the gas that circulates the area, my family owns half the damn shops in Diagon Alley, and as for the burns, it's a simple spell, Granger, and obviously you are not as good as they said you were if you don't even know how to keep protected from fire!"

He was standing now and once again she noticed his height.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and made a point of looking at his bandaged arm. He noticed and almost instantly hid it from her view once more.

"Really, Malfoy," she started almost sweetly, "if it was just an accident and if the fire really was that harmless and could be avoided with a simple spell, as you say," she paused and eyed his hidden arm again, "then why the need for such heavy bandage? Don't think I don't know what's underneath it and don't presume me stupid enough to believe your bullshit about simple spells." She paused to take his reaction, breathing heavily. "I know that was dark magic, Malfoy, and I know something happened while you were inside."

She watched him narrow his eyes and a darkness pass his features for a split second. He looked bloody intimidating at that moment, but she kept her stance and stood her ground as he approached her. She could see his neck tense with every step he took towards her, a predatory pace that almost made her want to step back from him.

"One of these days, Granger," he breathed bending slightly to meet her stare, "you are going to regret having that loud mouth of yours," his gaze lowered to her lips for a brief second, and quickly flashed a look of disgust to excuse his actions. Swallowing hard, she took one step towards him and almost defied his gaze.

He straightened up then and stared down at her from his towering posture. He smirked as her frown deepened. "I have no reason to indulge your curiosity, _mudblood_, so I would suggest you move your hideous face out of my office and leave me _alone_."

Ignoring his taunt at her bloodline, which seven years later seemed to erase its sting, she narrowed her eyes at him, a smirk playing at her lips before she raised her hand and made for a slap that never touched its target, as she had expected it. His left arm came to grip her right wrist and almost instantly, as if she had been waiting for it, she gripped her left hand around his forearm, squeezing tightly as she stared at his grey orbs. She could see the flash of pain pass through them before he released his grip on her and pushed her back.

The look on his face said it all.

"You know, it's amazing how hypocritical you Gryffindors are. One runs into a burning building to save a sodding Weasley, and no gratitude is even given." He murmured as he stepped away from her, staring at her with renewed anger. "What does one receive instead?" he continued, raising his injured arm to her eye height and patiently began undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeve, not taking his stare off her.

"Regardless, I suppose you either get one or the other. Had I been someone you approved of, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to get you to bloody leave me alone anyways, instead of covering me with insults, you'd be covering me with..." He paused his rant and grinned at her, taking evil pleasure in her discomfort, "I think I'd rather take your petty try at insults."

Hermione eyed him wearily, trying to ignore his double meaning, and focused on his almost bare arm. The sleeve had been completely rolled up, exposing pale muscle, the only thing preventing a complete look at his limb was the bandaged that she had attacked mere seconds before. She noticed the fresh blood that was now staining the white cloth.

"Being polite doesn't make you less valiant of a person, Granger." He concluded, ripping the bandage off his arm and showing her the mark that lay beneath.

She gasped.

The dark mark which she had always considered hideous with the snake slithering out of the skull now was outlined in red, the crimson shining brightly like a fresh wound. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. The complete contrast between the rich color of the mark and the rest of his arm was uncanny. An ugly bruise was visible behind the mark. She unconsciously took a step closer and tensed at what she saw then. The snake was moving against his arm, drawing out more blood to the point where it almost seemed like it was bathing in it. Yet no red substance stained the floor. She snapped her eyes back at Malfoy, who was curiously studying the mark himself.

"Amazing, isn't it?" he questioned, as the snake slithered by and sank its painted teeth on his raw arm. He winced before staring back at her, covering the mark once more.

A tense silence passed between them as they stared pointedly at each other, one with eyes cold as steel and the other with a brown hue that shone with regret.

"I trust you have seen all that you wanted, Granger." He spoke bluntly, giving her one last look before moving back towards his desk. "If you need to know anything else, you'll have to speak with Shaklebolt." And without another word he sat back down and picked up the files he had been studying prior to her interruption.

"Malfoy-"

"Drop it, Granger," he cut off, not bothering to look at her as he spoke. "I have nothing more to say to you, get out of my office."

* * *

That night found Draco Malfoy perusing the corners that made up his centuries old mansion as he sipped what could have been his fifth glass of firewisky, or his tenth; he didn't know, he had lost count a long time ago.

He had had it all planned, all played out in his mind as to how his stay in England would be. But of course nothing ever works out as intended, and here he now was, immersed in a mess he never expected to be part of.

Walking into an old study that hadn't been used since before his birth he guessed, he took a seat on its large leather couch. Even throughout the years, it remained as stiff as the one in his father's study. He swirled the amber liquid of his drink and lowered his gaze to the mark that still bled like a never healing wound.

Ever since Granger had purposely gripped his arm that afternoon, the bleeding had been coming on more intense. Perhaps he should have gone to get it checked like the healers had suggested before his departure from St. Mungo's, but part of him had declined that option as fast as it had entered his mind. Call it having a conscience or being masochist perhaps, but somehow he felt he owed the pain he was enduring to someone. To his mother, to his father, to his failed attempts at escaping what he could not control, to the bloody wizarding world and even to Granger.

A brief memory of having her sprawled on his mansion's floor crossed his mind. He saw his aunt crouching over her as the crazy witch carved the words that he himself had first uttered to her.

In his drunken daze he wondered about the scar that had remained etched in her arm. Had it been cursed as his was? Did it bleed tears of hate and remind her of what she was, of what she was segregated for like it did his?

He snickered. No, his didn't bleed with the intent to traumatize as it did hers, his bled with a proudness he never would have possessed. He had been branded like cattle and for a second he wondered how much longer he'll be paying the price.

He brought the glass to his lips and swallowed the remaining liquid, enjoying the burn that it brought to his throat as he magically filled up the glass with another serving of the deadly substance.

He couldn't remember the last time he drank this much.

He thought of Granger once more, hoping that he'd have no memory of his thoughts the morning that followed. Honestly, seeing her in this dreams, or nightmares, was not something that he cherished. At first he had detested her even more than he had at Hogwarts, but after a while... after a while, he cursed her not for their angry history but for the new history she was unconsciously writing.

He knew he was being absurd and reminded himself that he was drunk off his ass, but as he closed his eyes the truth behind his emotions played like an old clip, testing his limits with every passing gaze, with every passing memory of her. Had he been sober he would have swatted the thought away as he had done more than often in the past few days, but he was wasted and wasted away was his control.

He allowed himself another scoff as he played the memory of this morning in his head. He had played his part well as always, the evil ferret, the death eater; that was after all the only part he knew how to play with her, and with their strained history, it was easy, it was supposed to be natural. His sober self would never allow any other form of interaction with her.

Something about Granger made his blood boil. She had always made his blood bubble to be truthful. While at Hogwarts he had hated her for her accomplishments even though he had believed her to be inferior to him because of her blood. After the war he loathed her for proving that his side's beliefs had been nothing but lies upon lies. And after, well after he left, he had forgotten about her.

Until she appeared once more in his dreams, and his anger for her had been reborn and quickly doubled. But sometime in those two years that he spent with her in his dreams, his anger had subsided. He had never verbally acknowledged it, he had passed it off as a signal of his maturity, but he had hid the secrets his heart held even from himself. She was no longer worthy of his anger, he had concluded as an excuse and so he had accepted each dream and welcomed her departure in each. And when he had seen her after all those years, he had shrugged his shoulders and continued on with his self-imposed pretense. Sure he had grumbled at the thought of partnering up with her, but part of him wasn't sure if the anger brought in was an act to maintain whatever normality that was left, or if in reality he was cursing himself because he no longer hated her as he should have.

And he should have kept on hating her, maybe part of him still did, at times he felt so confused he clearly thought himself going mad. He hadn't even allowed himself to think of what had transpired between them before they had been called by Potter to rescue Weasley. At the training room, it had been… different. But hell, his and her moods changed so often, he didn't know what to expect. He hated her one day and then pretended to feel nothing the next. It was all painfully unclear. And he knew he was just making things worse by circling around the subject, which is why he never allowed himself any passing thoughts of it while clear minded.

But now…

He and Granger were as different as night and day and nothing, no matter how hard he tried would come of it, it was really ludicrous to imagine it. She, after all, already had her heart set on another, granted he was dead, but something that was worse than having the wizard alive.

Sitting up he frowned and downed another drink, emptying the glass with bitterness. They say children and drunks always speak the truth, and that right there was why he never permitted himself to become as inebriated as he was now. Lies are better than truth, always.

Filling the glass once more he took a drink from it before setting it to the side and stretched his back, his eyes lingering on the ceiling. A knock on the door broke his reverie.

"Yes," he answered, his voice raw with the effects of the alcohol.

The door was slightly pushed open and the figure of a tiny house elf stepped through the entrance.

"Master Malfoy," the elf spoke, bowing graciously before his young lord, "a letter has arrived for you."

Draco frowned and rested his head on the couch's back frame.

"You can leave it on the desk," he whispered, closing his eyes.

"Yes, Master Malfoy," said the elf, and without another sound, placed the letter on the nearest desk to Draco and left with a silent pop.

* * *

_She was smiling at him, and that alone gave away the reality of the dream. It wasn't like any other he had dreamt before; she never smiled at him like that. Her face was always mellow and cautious, as if afraid of him and at the same time, afraid for him. But now, the brightness of her smile was like an invitation for him to take what was his. _

_She stood beautifully, dressed in a plain white dress that swirled around her knees with the gentle breeze the meadow brought, the sun warming up her bare shoulders with an intensity that almost seemed unnatural. _

_He looked around and took in the scenery around him; he recognized the meadow as if from a dream, a long lost dream that had surfaced like a sunken ship._

_He turned back towards her and cautiously and slowly approached her, feeling that any sudden movement would make her disappear. Her smile widened and a small laugh escaped her lip as she stared at him, urging him to come forth quicker. He complied and within seconds he stood in front of her. The angle of her face as she stared at him was so familiar that it almost seemed like he had experienced his dream before, but he mentally shook his head and smiled back at her, not wanting to ruin the perfect moment with any unnecessary thoughts. _

_She raised her hand slowly and left it lingering by his cheek, her eyes examining the contras in tones of skin, his paleness contrasting beautifully with her warm glow. She moved her eyes towards his and for a split second her smile wavered, unsure if her actions had become too forward for him. But her eyes shone with such truthfulness that never in a million years would he have imagined such openness from her. He smiled at her again, encouraging her on and slowly brought his hand to press hers against his face. _

_He'd surrender anything, to feel her caress. _

_She tilted her head curiously and gently drew circles with her thumb against his skin, her eyes closing for a second before opening them again with renewed emotion. He neared her more, and gazing at her eyes, he dropped his hand from hers as he saw himself reflected in her dark orbs, his pale face contrasting hideously with the black of the Death Eater robes. In her eyes he saw an evil that had never been present before and before he could step away, she grinned and painfully grabbed his chin with her once warm hand and pulled him towards her, sealing the space needed for his death._

_A violent kiss was all he felt before the coldness submerged him._

Opening his eyes, Draco knew two things as he stared at the white ceiling:

One, he was never drinking again, and

Two, he needed to rid Granger of his subconscious for once and for all.

Lifting his head and feeling the pain in his neck he looked for the ancient clock that sat over the chimney in the old study he was in. Grimacing at the time, he massaged his neck before standing up and stretching his sore muscles.

He felt as if his head was about to explode. Looking down at the innocent looking glass of firewiskey still half way full he frowned and noticing the envelope next to it, he picked it up and left without another look back at the old room.

* * *

A strange notion had entered her mind as she sat tiredly on her bed, waiting on sleep to cure her of the lunacy that was swirling within her.

All of her thoughts for the remainder of that day and now all of the night had wandered on Malfoy, and the words he had uttered to her before, during and after her assault.

"_Being polite doesn't make you less valiant of a person, Granger."_

That sentence in particular had sneaked into her mind like an annoying tune and never left. And that sentence in part was the reason for her self-imposed illness of mind.

As a child, growing up in a modest yet not lacking muggle household, she had been brought up in a nurturing atmosphere, where ethics, morals and values all combined to forge who she was now.

Her parents were kind people. No matter how wealthy their practice in dentistry had made them they had always retained their humbleness and in turn had passed it on to her, along with their kindness and values. She was soft hearted, that she knew and never in her life had she not appreciated a kind gesture from another; her conscience never allowed her to ignore it without gratitude being expressed. And at the same time, her conscience never allowed her to purposely hurt someone and walk away with it unscratched.

"_Being polite doesn't make you less valiant of a person, Hermione," _her mother had once said to her after a nasty row she had with a school friend early in her years, before she had even guessed what her future would hold. The girl, her now forgotten friend, had unjustly pushed her out of a school function and had planted such anger in Hermione that from that day on, she had bluntly ignored the now remorseful girl and treated her with a lack of care that was slowly beginning to soil her once proper upbringing.

Her mother had sat her down after witnessing her daughter's treatment on the girl and had said those same words that Malfoy had spoken to her.

It was then that she had realized how far off she had derailed.

She had made peace with the girl, and even though their friendship was no longer existent she no longer ignored her, but greeted her kindly like she would anyone else; with sincerity. And from that day on she vowed never to act that way she had again.

That had been a turning point in her young life, the first of the many that would come.

And so sitting on her dark room and hearing the wind blow fiercely outside the window, Hermione, drenched in guilt, thought even more about the words Draco Malfoy had uttered.

It was true, he was right, he had ran in the burning building and come out with George. He had done what no one else would dare to do because he knew he could do it, and even with that knowledge and with the disdain he held towards the Weasley's he had saved George's life.

Granted, maybe he had an ulterior motive, maybe his heart had not really been in it, but regardless, he had done it.

And he had paid the consequences.

She thought again of the dark mark and how feral it had looked. Was it still bleeding even now?

Part of her had wanted to think that he deserved it, part of her wanted to forget that quote and ignore whatever guilt she felt over the matter. But that part of her had disappeared little by little and all that remained was a hollow reminder of who her anger could make her become. She was again that little girl she had once been, consumed by such anger that whatever upbringing she had received had vanished with the grip of her hand on his arm.

Quite frankly, she was ashamed of herself.

She was the biggest hypocrite she could think of. Here she was always campaigning respect and honor to all around her, even Harry and Ron on occasions, but when the same dilemma enveloped her, she ignored what she had preached and went ahead on acting with her primal instincts, without thinking or even taking into consideration the other person's stance. She hated to admit it, but Malfoy had been right, had it been someone else, someone she had approved of, she would never have acted as she did with him.

Closing her eyes tightly for the briefest moments, she gave a defeated sigh before recollecting her emotions and with renewed courage she got out of bed and went straight to her closet.

She needed to apologize.

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked the chapter. Please review and let me know what you think so far!


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